THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 
AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 
DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPIC 
SOCIETIES 


HM  136 

1918 

c.  2 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


This  book  is  due  at  the  LOUIS  R.  WILSON  LIBRARY  on  the 
last  date  stamped  under  "Date  Due."  If  not  on  hold  it  may  be 
renewed  by  bringing  it  to  the  Hbrary. 


DATE 
DUE 


RET. 


DATE 
DUE 


RET. 


■r 

II 


mi  1  8  199 


FEB2 


MAR  2  3  im 


TOTZ 


2  2  '95 

t5199r 


AUG 


1  7 


mm 


i 


THE  MODERN  LIBRARY 

OF  THE  WORLD'S  BEST  BOOKS  .. 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


Turn  to  the  end  of  this 
volume  for  a  complete 
list  of  titles  in  the 
Modern  Library. 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


By  MAX  STIRNER 


Translated  from  the  German  by 
STEVEN  T.  BYINGTON 

With  an  Introduction  by 
J.  L.  WALKER 


m 


BONI  and  LIVERIGHT,  INC. 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


TO  MY  SWEETHEART 

MARIE  DAHNHARDT 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2015 


https://archive.org/details/egohisownOOstir_0 


INTRODUCTION 


Fifty  years  sooner  or  later  can  make  little  difference  in  the 
case  of  a  book  so  revolutionary  as  this.. 

It  saw  the  light  when  a  so-called  revolutionary  movement  was 
preparing  in  men's  minds,  which  agitation  was,  however,  only  a 
disturbance  due  to  desires  to  participate  in  government,  and  to 
govern  and  to  be  governed,  in  a  manner  different  to  that  which 
prevails.  The  ''revolutionists"  of  1848  were  bewitched  with  an 
idea.  They  were  not  at  all  the  masters  of.  ideas.  Most  of  those 
who  since  that  time  have  prided  themselves  upon  being  revolu- 
tionists have  been  and  are  likewise  but  the  bondmen  of  an  idea 
— that  of  the  different  lodgment  of  authority. 

The  temptation  is,  of  course,  present  to  attempt  an  explanation 
of  the  central  thought  of  this  work;  but  such  an  effort  appears 
to  be  unnecessary  to  one  who  has  the  volume  in  his  hand.  The 
author's  care  in  illustrating  his  meaning  shows  that  he  realized 
how  prone  the  possessed  man  is  to  misunderstand  whatever  is 
not  moulded  according  to  the  fashions  in  thinking.  The  author's 
learning  was  considerable,  his  command  of  words  and  ideas 
may  never  be  excelled  by  another,  and  he  judged  it  needful 
to  develop  his  argument  in  manifold  ways.  So  those  who  enter 
into  the  spirit  of  it  will  scarcely  hope  to  impress  others  with  the 
same  conclusion  in  a  more  summary  manner.  Or,  if  one  might 
deem  that  possible  after  reading  Stirner,  still  one  cannot  think 
that  it  could  be  done  so  surely.  The  author  has  made  certain 
work  of  it  even  though  he  has  to  wait  for  his  public;  but  still, 
the  reception  of  the  book  by  its  critics  amply  proves  the  truth  of 
the  saying  that  one  can  give  another  arguments,  but  not  under- 
standing. The  system-makers  and  system-believers  thus  far 
cannot  get  it  out  of  their  heads  that  any  discourse  about  the 
nature  of  an  ego  must  turn  upon  the  common  characteristics  of 
egos,  to  make  a  systematic  scheme  of  what  they  share  as  a 
generality.  The  critics  inquire  what  kind  of  man  the  author  is 
talking  about.  They  repeat  the  question :  What  does  he  believe 
in?  They  fail  to  grasp  the  purport  of  the  recorded  answer: 
'T  believe  in  myself" ;  which  is  attributed  to  a  common  soldier 
long  before  the  time  of  Stirner.  They  ask.  What  is  the  principle 
of  the  self-conscious  egoist — the  Einzige?    To  this  perplexity 

vii 


viii 


INTRODUCTION 


Stirner  says:  Change  the  question;  put  "who?"  instead  of 
"what?"  and  an  answer  can  then  be  given  by  naming  him! 

This,  of  course,  is  too  simple  for  persons  governed  by  ideas, 
and  for  persons  in  quest  of  new  governing  ideas.  They  wish  to 
classify  the  man.  Now,  that  in  me  which  you  can  classify  is  not 
my  distinguishing  self.  '"Man"  is  the  horizon  or  zero  of  my 
existence  as  an  individual.  Over  that  I  rise  as  I  can.  At  least 
I  am  something  more  than  ^'man  in  general."  Pre-existing  wor- 
ship of  ideals  and  disrespect  for  self  had  made  of  the  ego  at  the 
very  most  a  Somebody,  oftener  an  empty  vessel  to  be  filled  with 
the  grace  or  the  leavings  of  a  tyrannous  doctrine;  thus  a  No- 
body. Stirner  dispels  the  morbid  subjection,  and  recognizes 
each  one  who  knows  and  feels  himself  as  his  own  property  to  be 
neither  humble  Nobody  nor  befogged  Somebody,  but  henceforth 
fiat-footed  and  level-headed  Mr.  Thisbody,  who  has  a  character 
and  good  pleasure  of  his  own,  just  as  he  has  a  name  of  his  own. 

The  critics  who  attacked  this  work  and  were  answered  in  the 
author's  minor  writings,  rescued  from  oblivion  by  John  Henry 
Mackay,  nearly  all  display  the  most  astonishing  triviality  and 
impotent  malice. 

We  owe  to  Dr.  Eduard  von  Hartmann  the  unquestionable 
service  which  he  rendered  by  directing  attention  to  this  book  in 
his  ''Philosophie  des  Unbewussten/'  the  first  edition  of  which 
was  published  in  1869,  and  in  other  writings.  I  do  not  begrudge 
Dr.  von  Hartmann  the  liberty  of  criticism  which  he  used;  and  I 
think  the  admirers  of  Stirner's  teaching  must  quite  appreciate 
one  thing  which  Von  Hartmann  did  at  a  much  later  date.  In 
*'Der  Eigene"  of  August  10,  1896,  there  appeared  a  letter  writ- 
ten by  him  and  giving,  among  other  things,  certain  data  from 
which  to  judge  that,  when  Friedrich  Nietzsche  wrote  his  later 
essays,  Nietzsche  was  not  ignorant  of  Stirner's  book. 

Von  Hartmann  wishes  that  Stirner  had  gone  on  and  developed 
his  principle.  Von  Hartmann  suggests  that  you  and  I  are  really 
the  same  spirit,  looking  out  through  two  pairs  of  eyes.  Then, 
one  may  reply,  I  need  not  concern  myself  about  you,  for  in  my- 
self I  have — us ;  and  at  that  rate  Von  Hartmann  is  merely  accus- 
ing himself  of  inconsistency:  for,  when  Stirner  wrote  this  book. 
Von  Hartmann's  spirit  was  writing  it ;  and  it  is  just  the  pity  that 
Von  Hartmann  in  his  present  form  does  not  indorse  what  he  said 
in  the  form  of  Stirner — that  Stirner  was  different  from  any  other 
man ;  that  his  ego  was  not  Fichte's  transcendental  generality, 
but  "this  transitory  ego  of  flesh  and  blood."  It  is  not  as  a  gen- 
erality that  you  and  I  differ,  but  as  a  couple  of  facts  which  are 
not  to  be  reasoned  into  one.  "I"  is  somewise  Hartmann,  and 
thus  Hartmann  is  "I";  but  I  am  not  Hartmann,  and  Hartmann 
is  not — I.  Neither  am  I  the  *T'  of  Stirner;  only  Stirner  him- 
self was  Stirner's  "1."  Note  how  comparatively  indifferent  a 
matter  it  is  with  Stirner  that  one  is  an  ego,  but  how  all-impor- 


INTRODUCTION 


ix 


tant  it  is  that  one  be  a  self-conscious  ego — a  self-cons-cious,  self- 
willed  person. 

Those  not  self-conscious  and  self-willed  are  constantly  acting 
from  self-interested  motives,  but  clothing  these  in  various  garbs. 
Watch  those  people  closely  in  the  light  of  Stirner's  teaching, 
and  they  seem  to  be  hypocrites,  they  have  so  many  good  moral 
and  religious  plans  of  which  self-interest  is  at  the  end  and 
bottom ;  but  they,  we  may  believe,  do  not  know  that  this  is  more 
than  a  coincidence. 

In  Stirner  we  have  the  philosophical  foundation  for  political 
liberty.  His  interest  in  the  practical  development  of  egoism  to 
the  dissolution  of  the  State  and  the  union  of  free  men  is  clear 
and  pronounced,  and  harmonizes  perfectly  with  the  economic 
philosophy  of  Josiah  Warren.  Allowing  for  difference  of 
temperament  and  language,  there  is  a  substantiell  agreement 
between  Stirner  and  Proudhon.  Each  would  be  free,  and  sees 
in  every  increase  of  the  number  of  free  people  and  their  intelli- 
gence an  auxiliary  force  against  the  oppressor.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  will  any  one  for  a  moment  seriously  contend  that 
Nietzsche  and  Proudhon  march  together  in  general  aim  and 
tendency — that  they  have  anything  in  common  except  the  daring 
to  profane  the  shrine  and  sepulchre  of  superstition? 

Nietzsche  has  been  much  spoken  of  as  a  disciple  of  Stirner, 
and,  owing  to  favorable  cullings  from  Nietzsche's  writings,  it 
has  occurred  that  one  of  his  books  has  been  supposed  to  contain 
more  sense  than  it  really  does — so  long  as  one  had  read  only  the 
extracts. 

Nietzsche  cites  scores  or  hundreds  of  authors.  Had  he  read 
everything,  and  not  read  Stirner? 

But  Nietzsche  is  as  unlike  Stirner  as  a  tight-rope  performance 
is  unlike  an  algebraic  equation. 

Stirner  loved  liberty  for  himself,  and  loved  to  see  any  and  all 
men  and  women  taking  liberty,  and  he  had  no  lust  of  power. 
Democracy  to  him  was  sham  liberty,  egoism  the  genuine  liberty. 

Nietzsche,  on  the  contrary,  pours  out  his  contempt  upon 
democracy  because  it  is  not  aiistocratic.  He  is  predatory  to 
the  point  of  demanding  that  those  who  must  succumb  to  feline 
rapacity  shall  be  taught  to  submit  with  resignation.  When  he 
speaks  of  "Anarchistic  dogs'*  scouring  the  streets  of  great  civi- 
lized cities,  it  is  true,  the  context  shows  that  he  means  the  Com- 
munists ;  but  his  worship  of  Napoleon,  his  bathos  of  anxiety  for 
the  rise  of  an  aristocracy  that  shall  rule  Europe  for  thousands  of 
years,  his  idea  of  treating  women  in  the  oriental  fashion,  show 
that  Nietzsche  has  struck  out  in  a  very  old  path — doing  the 
apotheosis  of  tyranny.  We  individual  egoistic  Anarchists,  how- 
ever, may  say  to  the  Nietzsche  school,  so  as  not  to  be  misunder- 
stood :  We  do  not  ask  of  the  Napoleons  to  have  pity,  nor  of  the 
predatory  barons  to  do  justice.    They  will  find  it  convenient  for 


X 


INTRODUCTION 


their  own  welfare  to  make  terms  with  men  who  have  learned  of 
Stirner  what  a  man  can  be  who  worships  nothing,  bears  alle- 
giance to  nothing.  To  Nietzsche's  rhodomontade  of  eagles  in 
baronial  form,  born  to  prey  on  industrial  lambs,  we  rather  taunt- 
ingly oppose  the  ironical  question:  Where  are  your  claws? 
What  if  the  "eagles"  are  fqund  to  be  plain  barnyard  fowls  on 
which  more  silly  fowls  have  fastened  steel  spurs  to  hack  the  vic- 
tims, who,  however,  have  the  power  to  disarm  the  sham  ''eagles" 
between  two  suns  ? 

Stirner  shows  that  men  make  their  tyrants  as  they  make  their 
gods,  and  his  purpose  is  to  unmake  tyrants. 

Nietzsche  dearly  loves  a  tyrant. 

In  style  Stirner's  work  offers  the  greatest  possible  contrast  to 
the  puerile,  padded  phraseology  of  Nietzsche's  Zarathustra' 
and  its  false  imagery.  Who  ever  imagined  such  an  unnatural 
conjuncture  as  an  eagle  '*toting"  a  serpent  in  friendship?  which 
performance  is  told  of  in  bare  words,  but  nothing  comes  of  it. 
In  Stirner  we  are  treated  to  an  enlivening  and  earnest  discussion 
addressed  to  serious  minds,  and  every  reader  feels  that  the  word 
is  to  him,  for  his  instruction  and  benefit,  so  far  as  he  has  mental 
independence  and  courage  to  take  it  and  use  it.  The  startling 
intrepidity  of  this  book  is  infused  with  a  whole-hearted  love  for 
all  mankind,  as  evidenced  by  the  fact  that  the  author  shows  not 
one  iota  of  prejudice  or  any  idea  of  division  of  men  into  ranks. 
He  would  lay  aside  government,  but  would  establish  any  regula- 
tion deemed  convenient,  and  for  this  only  our  convenience  is 
consulted.  Thus  there  will  be  general  liberty  only  when  the  dis- 
position toward  tyranny  is  met  by  intelligent  opposition  that  will 
no  longer  submit  to  such  a  rule.  Beyond  this  the  manly  sym- 
pathy and  philosophical  bent  of  Stirner  are  such  that  rulership 
appears  by  contrast  a  vanity,  an  infatuation  of  perverted  pride. 
We  know  not  whether  we  more  admire  our  author  or  more  love 
him. 

Stirner's  attitude  toward  woman  is  not  special.  She  is  an  in- 
dividual if  she  can  be,  not  handicapped  by  anything  he  says, 
feels,  thinks,  or  plans.  This  was  more  fully  exemplified  in  his 
life  than  even  in  this  book ;  but  there  is  not  a  line  in  the  book  to 
put  or  keep  woman  in  an  inferior  position  to  man,  neither  is 
there  anything  of  caste  or  aristocracy  in  the  book. 

Likewise  there  is  nothing  of  obscurantism  or  affected  mystic- 
ism about  it.  Everything  in  it  is  made  as  plain  as  the  author 
could  make  it.  He  who  does  not  so  is  not  Stirner's  disciple  nor 
successor  nor  co-worker. 

Some  one  may  ask:  How  does  plumb-line  Anarchism  train 
with  the  unbridled  egoism  proclaimed  by  Stirner?  The  plumb- 
line  is  not  a  fetish,  but  an  intellectual  conviction,  and  egoism  is 
a  universal  fact  of  animal  life.  Nothing  could  seem  clearer  to 
my  mind  than  that  the  reality  of  egoism  must  first  come  into  the 


INTRODUCTION 


xi 


consciousness  of  men,  before  we  can  have  the  unbiased  Einzige 
in  place  of  the  prejudiced  biped  who  lends  himself  to  the  sup- 
port of  tyrannies  a  million  times  stronger  over  me  than  the  nat- 
ural self-interest  of  any  individual.  When  plumb-line  doctrine 
is  misconceived  as  duty  between  unequal-minded  men — as  a  reli- 
gion of  humanity — it  is  indeed  the  confusion  of  trying  to  read 
without  knowing  the  alphabet  and  of  putting  philanthropy  in 
place  of  contract.  But,  if  the  plumb-line  be  scientific,  it  is  or 
can  be  my  possession,  my  property,  and  I  choose  it  for  its  use — 
when  circumstances  admit  of  its  use.  I  do  not  feel  hound  to  use 
it  because  it  is  scientific,  in  building  my  house;  but,  as  my  will, 
to  be  intelligent,  is  not  to  be  merely  wilful,  the  adoption  of  the 
plumb-line  follows  the  discarding  of  incantations.  There  is  no 
plumb-line  without  the  unvarying  lead  at  the  end  of  the  line; 
not  a  fluttering  bird  or  a  clawing  cat. 

On  the  practical  side  of  the  question  of  egoism  versus  self-sur- 
render and  for  a  trial  of  egoism  in  politics,  this  may  be  said :  the 
belief  that  men  not  moved  by  a  sense  of  duty  will  be  unkind  or 
unjust  to  others  is  but  an  indirect  confession  that  those  who  hold 
that  belief  are  greatly  interested  in  having  others  live  for  them 
rather  than  for  themselves.  But  I  do  not  ask  or  expect  so  much. 
I  am  content  if  others  individually  live  for  themselves,  and  thus 
cease  in  so  many  ways  to  act  in  opposition  to  my  living  for  my- 
self— to  our  living  for  ourselves. 

If  -Christianity  has  failed  to  turn  the  world  from  evil,  it  is  not 
to  be  dreamed  that  rationalism  of  a  pious  moral  stamp  will  suc- 
ceed in  the  same  task.  Christianity,  or  all  philanthropic  love,  is 
tested  in  non-resistance.  It  is  a  dream  that  example  will  change 
the  hearts  of  rulers,  tyrants,  mobs.  If  the  extremest  self-surren- 
der fails,  how  can  a  mixture  of  Christian  love  and  worldly  cau- 
tion succeed?  This  at  least  must  be  given  up.  The  policy  of 
Christ  and  Tolstoi  can  soon  be  tested,  but  Tolstoi's  belief  is  not 
satisfied  with  a  present  test  and  failure.  He  has  the  infatuation 
of  one  who  persists  because  this  ought  to  be.  The  egoist  who 
thinks  "I  should  like  this  to  be"  still  has  the  sense  to  perceive 
that  it  is  not  accomplished  by  the  fact  of  some  believing  and 
submitting,  in  asmuch  as  others  are  alert  to  prey  upon  the  un- 
resisting.  The  Pharaohs  we  have  ever  with  us. 

Several  passages  in  this  most  remarkable  book  show  the  author 
as  a  man  full  of  sympathy.  When  we  reflect  upon  his  deliber- 
ately  expressed  opinions  and  sentiments — his  spurning  of  the 
sense  of  moral  obligation  as  the  last  form  of  superstition — may 
we  not  be  warranted  in  thinking  that  the  total  disappearance  of 
the  sentimental  supposition  of  duty  liberates  a  quantity  of 
nervous  energy  for  the  purest  generosity  and  clarifies  the  intellect 
for  the  more  discriminating  choice  of  objects  of  merit? 

J.  L.  Walker. 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 


If  the  style  of  this  book  is  found  unattractive,  it  will  show 
that  I  have  done  my  work  ill  and  not  represented  the  author 
truly;  but,  if  it  is  found  odd,  I  beg  that  I  may  not  bear  all  the 
blame.  I  have  simply  tried  to  reproduce  the  author's  own  mix- 
ture of  colloquialisms  and  technicalities,  and  his  preference  for 
the  precise  expression  of  his  thought  rather  than  the  word  con- 
ventionally expected. 

One  especial  feature  of  the  style,  however,  gives  the  reason 
why  this  preface  should  exist.  It  is  characteristic  of  Stirner's 
writing  that  the  thread  of  thought  is  carried  on  largely  by  the 
repetition  of  the  same  word  in  a  modified  form  or  sense.  That 
connection  of  ideas  which  has  guided  popular  instinct  in  the 
formation  of  words  is  made  to  suggest  the  line  of  thought  which 
the  writer  wishes  to  follow.  If  this  echoing  of  words  is  missed, 
the  bearing  of  the  statements  on  each  other  is  in  a  mixture  lost ; 
and,  where  the  ideas  are  very  new,  one  cannot  afford  to  throw 
away  any  help  in  following  their  connection.  Therefore,  where 
a  useful  echo  (and  there  are  few  useless  ones  in  the  book)  could 
not  be  reproduced  in  English,  I  have  generally  called  attention 
to  it  in  a  note.  My  notes  are  distinguished  from  the  author's  by 
being  enclosed  in  brackets. 

One  or  two  of  such  coincidences  of  language,  occurring  in 
words  which  are  prominent  throughout  the  book,  should  be  borne 
constantly  in  mind  as  a  sort  of  Keri  perpetuum:  for  instance,  the 
identity  in  the  original  of  the  words  "spirit"  and  "mind,"  and  of 
the  phrases  "supreme  being"  and  "highest  essence."  In  such 
cases  I  have  repeated  the  note  where  it  seemed  that  such  repetition 
might  be  absolutely  necessary,  but  have  trusted  the  reader  to 
carry  it  in  his  head  where  a  failure  of  his  memory  would  not 
be  ruinous  or  likely. 

For  the  same  reason — ^that  is,  in  order  not  to  miss  any  indi- 
cation of  the  drift  of  the  thought — I  have  followed  the  original 
in  the  very  liberal  use  of  italics,  and  in  the  occasional  eccentric 
use  of  a  punctuation  mark,  as  I  might  not  have  done  in  transla- 
ting a  work  of  a  different  nature. 

xiii 


xiv 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 


I  have  set  my  face  as  a  flint  against  the  temptation  to  add 
notes  that  were  not  part  of  the  translation.  There  is  no  telling 
how  much  I  might  have  enlarged  the  book  if  I  had  put  a  note  at 
every  sentence  which  deserved  to  have  its  truth  brought  out  by 
fuller  elucidation — or  even  at  every  one  which  I  thought  needed 
correction.  It  might  have  been  within  my  province,  if  I  had 
been  able,  to  explain  all  the  allusions  to  contemporary  events, 
but  I  doubt  whether  any  one  could  do  that  properly  without 
having  access  to  the  files  of  three  or  four  well-chosen  German 
newspapers  of  Stirner's  time.  The  allusions  are  clear  enough, 
without  names  and  dates,  to  give  a  vivid  picture  of  certain 
aspects  of  German  life  then.  The  tone  of  some  of  them  is  ex- 
plained by  the  fact  that  the  book  was  published  under  censorship. 

I  have  usually  preferred,  for  the  sake  of  the  connection,  to 
translate  Biblical  quotations  somewhat  as  they  stand  in  the  Ger- 
man, rather  than  conform  them  altogether  to  the  English  Bible. 
I  am  sometimes  quite  as  near  the  original  Greek  as  I  had  fol- 
lowed the  current  translation. 

Where  German  books  are  referred  to,  the  pages  cited  are 
those  of  the  German  editions  even  when  (usually  because  of 
some  allusions  in  the  text)  the  titles  of  the  books  are  translated. 

Steven  T,  Byington. 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


ALL  THINGS  ARE  NOTHING  TO  ME* 


What  is  not  supposed  to  be  my  concern  If  First  and 
foremost,  the  Good  Cause,J  then  God's  cause,  the  cause 
of  mankind,  of  truth,  of  freedom,  of  humanity,  of  justice; 
further,  the  cause  of  my  people,  my  prince,  my  father- 
land; finally,  even  the  cause  of  Mind,  and  a  thousand 
other  causes.  Only  my  cause  is  never  to  be  my  concern. 
''Shame  on  the  egoist  who  thinks  only  of  himself !" 

Let  us  look  and  see,  then,  how  they  manage  their  con- 
cerns— they  for  whose  cause  we  are  to  labor,  devote  our- 
selves, and  grow  enthusiastic. 

You  have  much  profound  information  to  give  about 
God,  and  have  for  thousands  of  years  "searched  the 
depths  of  the  Godhead,"  and  looked  into  its  heart,  so  that 
you  can  doubtless  tell  us  how  God  himself  attends  to 
''God's  cause,''  which  we  are  called  to  serve.  And  you 
do  not  conceal  the  Lord's  doings,  either.  Now,  what  is 
his  cause  ?  Has  he,  as  is  demanded  of  us,  made  an  alien 
cause,  the  cause  of  truth  or  love,  his  own?  You  are 
shocked  by  this  misunderstanding, '  and  you  instruct  us 
that  God's  cause  is  indeed  the  cause  of  truth  and  love,  but 
that  this  cause  cannot  be  called  alien  to  him,  because  God 
is  himself  truth  and  love ;  you  are  shocked  by  the  assump- 
tion that  God  could  be  like  us  poor  worms  in  furthering 
an  alien  cause  as  his  own.  "Should  God  take  up  the 
cause  of  truth  if  we  were  not  himself  truth?"  He  cares 
only  for  his  cause,  but,  because  he  is  all  in  all,  therefore 
all  is  his  cause !    But  we,  we  are  not  all  in  all,  and  our 

*  [''Ich  hah'  Mein'  SacW  auf  Nichts  gestellt,'*  first  line  of 
Goethe's  poem,  "Vanitas!  Vanitatum  VanitasT  Literal  translation  : 
"I  have  set  mv  affair  on  nothing."] 

t  [Sache]  X  [Sache] 

3 


4 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


cause  is  altogether  little  and  contemptible;  therefore  we 
must  ''serve  a  higher  cause/' — Now  it  is  clear,  God  cares 
only  for  what  is  his,  busies  himself  only  with  himself, 
thinks  only  of  himself,  and  has  only  himself  before  his 
eyes;  woe  to  all  that  is  not  well-pleasing  to  him!  He 
serves  no  higher  preson,  and  satisfies  only  himself.  His 
cause  is — a  purely  egoistic  cause. 

How  is  it  with  mankind,  whose  cause  we  are  to  make 
our  own  ?  Is  its  cause  that  of  another,  and  does  mankind 
serve  a  higher  cause  ?  No,  mankind  looks  only  at  itself, 
mankind  is  its  own  cause.  That  it  may  develop,  it  causes 
nations  and  individuals  to  wear  themselves  out  in  its 
service,  and,  when  they  have  accomplished  what  mankind 
needs,  it  throws  them  on  the  dung-heap  of  history  in 
gratitude.  Is  not  mankind's  cause — a  purely  egoistic 
cause  ? 

I  have  no  need  to  take  up  each  thing  that  wants  to 
throw  its  cause  on  us  and  show  that  it  is  occupied  only 
with  itself  ,  not  with  us,  only  with  its  good,  not  with  ours. 
Look  at  the  rest  for  themselves.  Do  truth,  freedom, 
humanity,  justice,  desire  anything  else  than  that  you 
grow  enthusiastic  and  serve  them? 

They  all'have  an  admirable  time  of  it  when  they  re- 
ceive zealous  homage.  Just  observe  the  nation  that  is 
defended  by  devoted  patriots.  The  patriots  fall  in  bloody 
battle  or  in  the  fight  with  hunger  and  want;  what  does 
the  nation  care  for  that  ?  By  the  manure  of  their  corpses 
the  nation  comes  to  "its  bloom!"  The  individuals  have 
died  "for  the  great  cause  of  the  nation,"  and  the  nation 
sends  some  words  of  thanks  after  them  and — ^has  the 
profit  of  it.    I  call  that  a  paying  kind  of  egoism. 

But  only  look  at  that  Sultan  who  cares  so  lovingly  for 
his  people.  Is  he  not  pure  unselfishness  itself,  and  does 
he  not  hourly  sacrifice  himself  for  his  people  ?  Oh,  yes, 
for  "his  people."  Just  try  it ;  show  yourself  not  as  his, 
but  as  your  own ;  for  breaking  away  from  his  egoism  you 
will  take  a  trip  to  iail.  The  Sultan  has  set  his  cause  on 
nothing  but  himself ;  he  is  to  himself  all  in  all,  he  is  to 


ALL  THINGS  ARE  NOTHING  TO  ME 


5 


himself  the  only  one,  and  tolerates  nobody  who  would 
dare  not  to  be  one  of  ^'his  people.'' 

And  will  you  not  learn  by  these  brilliant  examples  that 
the  egoist  gets  on  best?  I  for  my  part  take  a  lesson  from 
them,  and  propose,  instead  of  further  unselfishly  serving 
those  great  egoists,  rather  to  be  the  egoist  myself. 

God  and  mankind  have  concerned  themselves  for 
nothing,  for  nothing  but  themselves.  Let  me  then  like- 
wise concern  myself  for  mysellf,  who  am  equally  with 
God  the  nothing  of  all  others,  who  am  my  all,  who  am  the 
only  one.* 

If  God,  if  mankind,  as  you  affirm,  have  substance 
enough  in  themselves  to  be  all  in  all  to  themselves,  then  I 
feel  that  /  shall  still  less  lack  that,  and  that  I  shall  have 
no  complaint  to  make  of  my  "emptiness."  I  am  not 
nothing  in  the  sense  of  emptiness,  but  I  am  the  creative 
nothing,  the  nothing  out  of  which  I  myself  as  creator 
create  everything. 

Away,  then,  with  every  concern  that  is  not  altogether 
my  concern !  You  think  at  least  the  ''good  cause"  must 
be  my  concern?  Whafs  good,  what's  bad?  Why,  I 
myself  am  my  concern,  and  I  am  neither  good  nor  bad. 
Neither  has  meaning  for  me. 

The  divine  is  God's  concern;  the  human,  man's.  My 
concern  is  neither  the  divine  nor  the  human,  not  the  true, 
good,  just,  free,  etc.,  but  solely  what  is  mine,  and  it  is  not 
a  general  one,  but  is — unique, \  as  I  am  unique. 

Nothing  is  more  to  me  than  myself ! 


*  [der  Einsiga] 


t  [einzig] 


PART  FIRST 

'MAN 


Man  is  to  man  the  supreme  being,  says  Feuerbach. 

Man  has  just  been  discovered,  says  Brnno  Bauer. 

Then  let  us  take  a  more  careful  look  at  this  supreme  being  and 

this  new  discovery. 


I 


A  HUMAN  LIFE 

From  the  moment  when  he  catches  sight  of  the  light  of 
the  world  a  man  seeks  to  find  out  himself  and  get  hold 
of  himself  out  of  its  confusion,  in  whcih  he,  with  every- 
thing else,  is  tossed  about  in  motley  mixture. 

But  everything  that  comes  in  contact  with  the  child 
defends  itself  in  turn  against  his  attacks,  and  asserts  its 
own  persistence. 

Accordingly,  because  each  thing  cares  for  itself  and  at 
the  same  time  comes  into  constant  collison  with  other 
things,  the  combat  of  self-assertion  is  unavoidable. 

Victory  or  defeat — between  the  two  alternatives  the 
fate  of  the  combat  wavers.  The  victor  becomes  the  lord, 
the  vanquished  one  the  subject:  the  former  exercises 
supremacy  and  ''rights  of  supremacy,''  the  latter  fulfils  in 
awe  and  deference  the  ''duties  of  a  subject.'' 

But  both  remain  enemies,  and  always  lie  in  wait :  they 
watch  for  each  other's  weaknesses — children  for  those 
of  their  parents  and  parents  for  those  of  their  children 
(e.  g.  their  fear)  ;  either  the  stick  conquers  the  man,  or 
the  man  conquers  the  stick. 

In  childhood  liberation  takes  the  direction  of  trying 
to  get  to  the  bottom  of  things,  to  get  at  what  is  "back  of" 
things;  therefore  we  spy  out  the  weak  points  of  every- 
body, for  which,  it  is  well  known,  children  have  a  sure 
instinct ;  therefore  we  like  to  smash  things,  like  to  rum- 
mage through  hidden  corners,  pry  after  what  is  covered 
up  or  out  of  the  way,  and  try  what  we  can  do  with  every- 
thing. When  we  once  get  at  what  is  back  of  the  things, 
we  know  we  are  safe;  when,  e.  g.,  we  have  got  at  the 


9 


10  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


fact  that  the  rod  is  too  weak  against  our  obduracy,  then 
we  no  longer  fear  it,  "have  outgrown  it." 

Back  of  the  rod,  mightier  than  it,  stands  our — obduracy, 
our  obdurate  courage.  By  degrees  we  get  at  what  is  back 
of  everything  that  was  mysterious  and  uncanny  to  us, 
the  mysteriously-dreaded  might  of  the  rod,  the  father's 
stern  look,  etc.,  and  back  of  all  we  find  our — ataraxy,  i.  e. 
imperturbability,  intrepidity,  our  counter  force,  our  odds 
of  strength,  our  invincibility.  Before  that  which  formerly 
inspired  in  us  fear  and  deference  we  no  longer  retreat 
shyly,  but  take  courage.  Back  of  everything  we  find  our 
courage,  our  superiority ;  back  of  the  sharp  command  of 
parents  and  authorities  stands,  after  all,  our  courageous 
choice  of  our  outwitting  shrewdness.  And  the  more  we 
feel  ourselves,  the  smaller  appears  that  which  before 
seemed  invincible.  And  what  is  our  trickery,  shrewd- 
ness, courage,  obduracy?   What  else  but — mind!^ 

Through  a  considerable  time  we  are  spared  a  fight  that 
is  so  exhausting  later — the  fight  against  reason.  The 
fairest  part  of  childhood  passes  without  the  necessity  of 
coming  to  blows  with  reason.  We  care  nothing  at  all 
about  it,  do  not  meddle  with  it,  admit  no  reason.  We  are 
not  to  be  persuaded  to  anything  by  conviction,  and  are 
deaf  to  good  arguments,  principles,  etc. ;  on  the  other 
hand,  coaxing,  punishment,  and  the  like  are  hard  for  us 
to  resist. 

This  stern  life-and-death  combat  with  reason  enters 
later,  and  begins  a  new  phase;  in  childhood  we  scamper 
about  without  racking  our  brains  much. 

Mind  is  the  name  of  the  first  self-discovery,  the  first 
undeification  of  the  divine,  i.  e,  of  the  uncanny,  the 
spooks,  the  "powers  above."  Our  fresh  feeling  of  youth, 
this  feeling  of  self,  now  defers  to  nothing;  the  world  is 
discredited,  for  we  are  above  it,  we  are  mind. 

Now  for  the  first  time  we  see  that  hitherto  we  have  not 


*  \Geist.  This  word  will  be  translated  sometimes  "mind"  and 
sometimes  "spirit"  in  the  following  pages.] 


A  HUMAN  LIFE 


11 


looked  at  the  world  intelligently  at  all,  but  only  stared 
at  it. 

We  exercise  the  beginnings  of  our  strength  on  natural 
powers.  We  defer  to  parents  as  a  natural  power;  later 
we  say :  Father  and  mother  are  to  be  forsaken ;  all  natural 
power  to  be  counted  as  riven.  They  are  vanquished.  For 
the  rational,  i.  e.  ''intellectuar'  man  there  is  no  family 
as  a  natural  power;  a  renunciation  of  parents,  brothers, 
etc.,  makes  its  appearance.  If  these  are  "born  again"  as 
intellectual,  rational  powers,  they  are  no  longer  at  all  what 
they  were  before. 

And  not  only  parents,  but  men  in  general,  are  con- 
quered by  the  young  man ;  they  are  no  hindrance  to  him, 
and  are  no  longer  regarded ;  for  now  he  says :  One  must 
obey  God  rather  than  men. 

From  this  high  standpoint  everything  ''earthly'  recedes 
into  contemptible  remoteness;  for  the  standpoint  is — the 
heavenly. 

The  attitude  is  now  altogether  reversed;  the  youth 
takes  up  an  intellectual  position,  while  the  boy,  who  did 
not  feel  himself  as  mind,  grew  up  in  mindless  learning. 
The  former  does  not  try  to  get  hold  of  things  (e,  g.  to 
get  into  his  head  the  data  of  history),  but  of  the  thoughts 
that  lie  hidden  in  things,  and  so,  e.  g,,  of  the  spirit  of 
history.  On  the  other  hand,  the  boy  understands  con- 
nections no  doubt,  but  not  ideas,  the  spirit;  therefore  he 
strings  together  whatever  can  be  learned,  without  pro- 
ceeding a  priori  and  theoretically,  i.  e,  without  looking  for 
ideas. 

A3  in  childhood  one  had  to  overcome  the  resistance  of 
the  laws  of  the  world,  so  now  in  everything  that  he  pro- 
poses he  is  met  by  an  objection  of  the  mind,  of  reason,  of 
his  own  conscience.  "That  is  unreasonable,  unchristian, 
unpatriotic,''  and  the  like,  cries  conscience  to  us,  and — 
frightens  us  away  from  it  Not  the  might  of  the  avenging 
Eumenides,  not  Poseidon's  wrath,  not  God,  far  as  he  sees 
the  hidden,  not  the  father's  rod  of  punishment,  do  we 
fear,  but — conscience. 


12 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


We  ''run  after  our  thoughts''  now,  and  follow  their 
commands  just  as  before  we  followed  parental,  human 
ones.  Our  course  of  action  is  determined  by  our  thoughts 
(ideas,  conceptions,  faith),  as  it  is  in  childhood  by  the 
commands  of  our  parents. 

For  all  that,  we  were  already  thinking  when  we  were 
children,  only  our  thoughts  were  not  fleshless,  abstract, 
absolute,  i.  e,  nothing  but  thoughts,  a  heaven  in 
themselves,  a  pure  world  of  thought,  logical  thoughts. 

Qn  the  contrary,  they  had  been  only  thoughts  that  we 
had  about  a  thing;  we  thought  of  the  thing  so  or  so. 
Thus  we  may  have  thought  ''God  made  the  world  that 
we  see  there,"  but  we  did  not  think  of  (''search")  the 
"depths  of  the  Godhead  itself";  we  may  ^"»ave  thought 
"that  is  the  truth  about  the  matter,"  but  we  did  not  think 
of  Truth  itself,  nor  unite  into  one  sentence  "God  is  truth." 
The  "depths  of  the  Godhead,  who  is  truth,"  we  did  not 
touch.  Over  such  purely  logical,  i.  e.  theoligical  ques- 
tions, "What  is  truth  ?"  Pilate  does  not  stop,  though  he 
does  not  therefore  hesitate  to  ascertain  in  an  individual 
case  "what  truth  there  is  in  the  thing,"  i.  e,  whether  the 
thing  is  true. 

Any  thought  bound  to  a  thing  is  not  yet  nothing  hut  a 
thought,  absolute  thought. 

To  bring  to  light  the  pure  thought,  or  to  be  of  its  party, 
is  the  delight  of  youth ;  and  all  the  shapes  of  light  in  the 
world  of  thought,  like  truth,  freedom,  humanity,  Man, 
etc.,  illumine  and  inspire  the  youthful  soul. 

But,  when  the  spirit  is  recognized  as  the  essential 
thing,  it  still  makes  a  difference  whether  the  spirit  is.  poor 
or  rich,  and  therefore  one  seeks  to  become  rich  in  spirit  ; 
the  spirit  wants  to  spread  out  so  as  to  found  its  empire — 
an  empire  that  is  not  of  this  world,  the  world  just  con- 
quered. Thus,  then,  it  longs  to  become  all  in  all  to  itself : 
i.  e.,  although  I  am  spirit,  I  am  not  yet  perfected  spirit, 
and  must  first  seek  the  complete  spirit. 

But  with  that  I,  who  had  just  now  found  myself  as 
spirit,  lose  myself  again  at  once,  bowing  before  the  com- 


A  HUMAN  LIFE 


13 


plete  spirit  as  one  not  my  own  but  supernal,  and  feeling 
my  emptiness. 

Spirit  is  the  essential  point  for  everything,  to  be  sure 
but  then  is  every  spirit  the  "right''  spirit?  The  right  and 
true  spirit  is  the  ideal  of  spirit,  the  ''Holy  Spirit."  It.  is 
not  my  or  your  spirit,  but  just — an  ideal,  supernal  one, 
it  is  "God."  ''God  is  spirit."  And  this  supernal  "Father 
in  heaven  gives  it  to  those  that  pray  to  him."* 

The  man  is  distinguished  from  the  youth  by  the  fact 
that  he  takes  the  world  as  it  is,  instead  of  everywhere 
fancying  it  amiss  and  wanting  to  improve  it,.f.  e,  model  it 
after  his  ideal ;  in  him  the  view  that  one  must  deal  with 
the  world  according  to  his  interest,  not  according  to*  his 
ideals,  becomes  confirmed. 

So  long  as  one  knows  himself  only  3,s,  spirit,  and  feels 
that  all  the  value  of  his  existence  consists  in  being  spirit 
(it  becomes  easy  for  the  youth  to  give  his  life,  the 
"bodily  life,"  for  amothing,  for  the  silliest  point  of  honor), 
so  long  it  is.  only  thoughts  that  one  has,  ideas  that  he 
hopes  to  be  able  to  realize  some  day  when  he  has  found 
a  sphere  of  action;  thus  one  has  meanwhile  only  ideals. 

Not  till  one  has  fallen  in  love  with  his  corporeal  self, 
and  takes  a  pleasure  in  himself  as  living  flesh-and-blood 
person — but  it  is  in  mature  years,  in  the  man,  that  we 
find  it  so — not  till  then  has  one  a  personal  or  egoistic  in- 
terest, i.  e.  an  interest  not  only  of  our  spirit,  for  instance, 
but  of  total  satisfaction,  satisfaction  of  the  whole  chap,  a 
selfish  interest.  Just  compare  a  man  with  a  youth,  and 
see  if  he  will  not  appear  to  you  harder,  less  magnanimous, 
more  selfish.  Is  he  therefore  worse?  No,  you  say;  he 
has  only  become  more  definite,  or,  as  you  also  call  it, 
more  "  practical."  But*  the  main  point  is  this,  that  he 
makes  himself  more  the  centre  than  does  the  youth,  who 
is  infatuated  about  other,  things,  e.  g.  God,  fatherland, 
and  so  on. 

Therefore  the  man  shows  a  second  self-discovery.  The 


*Luke  11,  13. 


14 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


youth  has  found  himself  as  spirit  and  lost  himself  again 
m  the  general  spirit,  the  complete,  holy  spirit,  in  spirit, 
Man,, mankind — in  short,  all  ideals;  the  man  finds  him- 
self as  embodied  spirit. 

Boys  had  only  uninteUectual  interests  {i.  e.  interests 
devoid  of  thoughts  and  ideas),  youths  only  intellectual 
ones ;  the  man  has  bodily,  personal,  egoistic  interests. 

If  the  child  has  not  an  object  that  it  can  occupy  itself 
with,  it  feels  ennui;  for  it  does  not  yet  know  how  to  occupy 
itself' with  itself.  The  youth,  on  the  contrary,  throws  the 
object  aside,  because  for  him  thoughts  arose  out  of  the 
object;  he  occupies  himself  with  his  thoughts,  his  dreams, 
occupies  himself,  intellectually,  or  ''his  mind  is  occupied.'' 

The  young  man  includes  everything  not  intellectual 
under  the  contemptuous  name  of  "externalities."  If  he 
nevertheless  sticks  to  the  most  trivial  externalities  {e.  g. 
the  customs  of  students'  clubs  and  other  formalities),  it 
is  because,  and  when,  he  discovers  mind  in  them,  i.  e. 
when  they  are  symbols  to  him. 

As  I  find  myself  back  of  things,  and  that  as  mind,  so  I 
must  later  find  myself  also  back  of  thoughts — to  wit,  as 
their  creator  and  owner.  In  the  time  of  spirits  thoughts 
grew  till  they  overtopped  my  head,  whose  offspring  they 
yet  were ;  they  hovered  about  me  and  convulsed  me  like 
fever-phantasies — an  awful  power.  The  thoughts  had 
become  corporeal  on  their  own  account,  were  ghosts,  such 
as  God,  Emperor,  Pope,  Fatherland,  etc.  If  I  destroy 
their  corporeity,  then  I  take  them  back  into  mine,  and  say : 
*T  alone  am  corporeal."  And  now  I  take  the  world  as 
what  it  is  to  me,  as  mine,  as  my  property ;  I  refer  all  to 
myself. 

If  as  spirit  I  had  thrust  away  the  world  in  the  deepest 
contempt,  so  as  owner  I  thrust  spirits  or  ideas  away  into 
their  ^Vanity."  They  have  no  longer  any  power  over  me, 
as  no  ''earthly  might"  has  power  over  the  spirit. 

The  child  was  realistic,  taken  up  with  the  things  of  this 
world,  till  little  by  little  he  succeeded  in  getting  at  what 
was  back  of  these  very  things;  the  youth  was  idealistic, 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  IS 


inspired  by  thoughts,  till  he  worked  his  way  up  to  where 
he  became  the  man,  the  egoistic  man,  who  deals  with 
things  and  thoughts  according  to  his  heart's  pleasure,  and 
sets  his  personal  interest  above  everything.  Finally,  the 
old  man?  When  I  become  one,  there  will  still  be  time 
enough  to  speak  of  that. 


II 

MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW 

How  each  of  us  developed  himself,  what  he  strove  for, 
attained,  or  missed,  what  objects  he  formerly  pursued 
and  what  plans  and  wishes  his  heart  is  now  set  on,  what 
transformations  his  views  have  experienced,  what  per- 
turbations his  principles — in  short,  how  he  has  to-day 
become  what  yesterday  or  years  ago  he  was  not — this  he 
brings  out  again  from  his  memory  with  more  or  less  ease, 
and  he  feels  with  especial  vividness  what  changes  have 
taken  place  in  himself  when  he  has  before  his  eyes  the 
unrolling  of  another's  life. 

Let  us  therefore  look  into  the  activities  our  forefathers 
busied  themselves  with. 

I.— THE  ANCIENTS 

Custom  having  once  given  the  name  of  "the  ancients'' 
to  our  pre-Christian  ancestors,  we  will  not  throw  it  up 
against  them  that,  in  comparison  with  us  experienced 
people,  they  ought  properly  to  be  called  children,  but  will 
rather  continue  to  honor  them  as  our  good  old  fathers. 
But  how  have  they  come  to  be  antiquated,  and  who  could 
displace  them  through  his  pretended  newness  ? 

We  know,  of  course,  the  revolutionary  innovator  and 


16 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


disrespectful  heir,  who  even  took  away  the  sanctity  of 
the  fathers'  sabbath  to  hallow  his  Sunday,  and  inter- 
rupted the  course  of  time  to  begin  at  himself  with  a  new 
chronology;  we  know  him,  and  know  that  it  is — the 
Christian.  But  does  he  remain  forever  young,  and  is  he 
to-day  still  the  new  man,  or  will  he  too  be  superseded,  as 
he  has  superseded  the  ''ancients"  ? 

The  fathers  must  doubtless  have  themselves  begotten 
the  young  one  who  entombed  them.  Let  us  then  peep 
at  this  act  of  generation. 

'To  the  ancients  the  world  was  a  truth,"  says  Feuer- 
bach,  but  he  forgets  to  make  the  important  addition,  "a 
truth  whose  untruth  they  tried  to  get  back  of,  and  at 
last  really  did."  What  is  meant  by  those  words  of  Feuer- 
bach  will  be  easily  recognized  if  they  are  put  alongside  the 
Christian  thesis  of  the  "vanity  and  transitoriness  of  the 
world."  For,  as  the  Christian  can  never  convince  himself 
of  the  vanity  of  the  divine  word,  but  believes  in  its  eternal 
and  unshakeable  truth,  which,  the  more  its  depths  are 
searched,  must  all  the  more  brilliantly  come  to  light  and 
triumph,  to  the  ancients  on  their  side  lived  in  the  feeling 
that  the  world  and  mundane  relations  g,  the  natural 
ties  of  blood)  were  the  truth  before  which  their  power- 
less 'T"  must  bow.  The  very  thing  on  which  the  ancients 
set  the  highest  value  is  spurned  by  Christians  as  the 
valueless,  and  what  they  recognized  as  truth  these  brand 
as  idle  lies;  the  high  significance  of  the  fatherland  dis- 
appears, and  the  Christian  must  regard  himself  as  ''a 
stranger  on  earth";*  the  sanctity  of  funeral  rites,  from 
which  sprang  a  work  of  art  like  the  Antigone  of  Sopho- 
cles, is  designated  as  a  paltry  thing  ("Let  the  dead  bury 
their  dead")  ;  the  infrangible  truth  of  family  ties  is  repre- 
sented as  an  untruth  which  one  cannot  promptly  enough 
get  clear  of  ;t  and  so  in  everything. 

If  we  now  see  that  to  the  two  sides  opposite  things  ap- 
pear as  truth,  to  one  the  natural,  to  the  other  the  intel- 


*Heb.  11,  13. 


tMark  10,  29. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  17 


lectual,  to  one  earthly  things  and  relations,  to  the  other 
heavenly  (the  heavenly  fatherland,  ''Jerusalem  that  is 
above,"  etc.),  it  still  remins  to  be  considered  how  the  new 
time  and  that  undeniable  reversal  could  come  out  of 
antiquity.  But  the  ancients  themselves  worked  toward 
making  their  truth  a  lie. 

Let  us  plunge  at  once  into  the  midst  of  the  most  brilliant 
years  of  the  ancients,  into  the  Periclean  century.  Then 
the  Sophistic  culture  was  spreading,  and  Greece  made  a 
pastime  of  what  had  hitherto  been  to  her  a  monstrously 
serious  matter. 

The  fathers  had  been  enslaved  by  the  undisturbed 
power  of  existing  things  too  long  for  the  posterity  not  to 
have  to  learn  by  bitter  experience  to  feel  themselves. 
Therefore  the  Sophists,  with  courageous  sauciness,  pro- 
nouncing the  reassuring  words,  "Don't  be  bluffed  V  and 
diffuse  the  rationalistic  doctrine,  *'Use  your  understanding, 
your  wit,  your  mind,  against  everything;  it  is  by  having 
a  good  and  v/ell-drilled  understanding  that  one  gets 
through  the  world  best,  provides  for  himself  the  best  lot, 
the  pleasantest  life!'  Thus  they  recognize  in  mind  man's 
true  weapon  against  the  world.  This  is  why  they  lay 
such  stress  on  dialetic  skill,  command  of  language,  the 
art  of  disputation,  etc.  They  announce  that  mind  is  to  be 
used  against  everything;  but  they  are  still  far  removed 
from  the  holiness  of  the  Spirit,  for  to  them  it  is  a  means, 
a  weapon,  as  trickery  and  defiance  serve  children  for  the 
same  purpose ;  their  mind  is  the  unbribable  understanding. 

To-day  we  should  call  that  a  one-sided  culture  of  the 
understanding,  and  add  the  warning,  ''Cultivate  not  only 
your  understanding,  but  also,  and  especially,  your  heart." 
Socrates  did  the  same.  For,  if  the  heart  did  not  become 
free  from  its  natural  impulses,  but  remained  filled  with 
the  rriost  fortuitous  contents  and,  as  an  uncriticised 
avidity^  altogether  in  the  power  of  things,  i.  e.  nothing 
but  a  vessel  of  the  most  various  appetites — ^then  it  was 
unavoidable  that  the  free  understanding  must  serve  the 


ft 


18 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


"'bad  hearf  and  was  ready  to  justify  everything  that  the 
v/icked  heart  desired. 

Therefore  Socrates  says  that  it  is  not  enough  for  one  to 
use  his  understanding  in  all  things,  but  it  is  a  question 
of  what  cause  one  exerts  it  for.  We  should  now  say,  one 
must  serve  the  "good  cause."  But  serving  the  good  cause 
is — being  moral.   Hence  Socrates  is  the  founder  of  ethics. 

Certainly  the  principle  of  the  Sophistic  doctrine  must 
lead  to  the  possibility  that  the  blindest  and  most  depend- 
ent slave  of  his  desires  might  yet  be  an  excellent  sophist, 
and,  with  keen  understanding,  trim  and  expound  every- 
thing in  favor  of  his  coarse  heart.  What  could  there  be 
for  which  a  ''good  reason"  might  not  be  found,  or  which 
might  not  be  defended  through  thick  and  thin? 

Therefore  Socrates  says :  "You  must  be  'pure-hearted 
if  your  shrewdness  is  to  be  valued."  At  this  point  begins 
the  second  period  of  Greek  liberation  of  the  mind,  th« 
period  of  purity  of  heart.  For  the  first  was  brought  h 
a  close  by  the  Sophists  in  their  proclaiming  the  omni- 
potence of  the  understanding.  But  the  heart  remained 
worldly-minded,  remained  a  servant  of  the  world,  always 
affected  by  worldly  wishes.  This  coarse  heart  was  to  be 
cultivated  from  now  on — the  era  of  culture  of  the  heart. 
But  how  is  the  heart  to  be  cultivated  ?  What  the  under- 
standing, this  one  side  of  the  mind,  has  reached — to  wit, 
the  capability  of  playing  freely  with  and  over  every  con- 
cern— awaits  the  heart  also;  everything  worldly  must 
come  to  grief  before  it,  so  that  at  last  family,  common- 
wealth, fatherland,  and  the  like,  are  given  up  for  the 
sake  of  the  heart,  i.  e,  of  blessedness,  the  heart's  blessed- 
ness. 

Daily  experience  confirms  the  truth  that  the  under- 
standing may  have  renounced  a  thing  many  years  before 
the  heart  has  ceased  to  beat  for  it.  So  the  Sophistic 
understanding  too  had  so  far  become  master  over  the 
dominant,  ancient  powers  that  they  now  needed  only  to  be 
driven  out  of  the  heart,  in  which  they  dwelt  unmolested., 
to  have  at  last  no  part  at  all  left  in  man. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  19 


This  war  is  opened  by  Socrates,  and  not  till  the  dying 
day  of  the  old  world  does  it  end  in  peace. 

The  examination  of  the  heart  takes  its  start  with 
Socrates,  and  all  the  contents  of  the  heart  are  sifted.  In 
their  last  extremest  struggles  the  ancients  threw  all  con- 
tents out  of  the  heart  and  let  it  no  longer  beat  for  any- 
thing; this  was  the  deed  of  the  Skeptics.  The  same  pur- 
gation of  the  heart  was  now  achieved  in  the  Skeptical  age, 
as  the  understanding  had  succeeded  in  establishing  in  the 
Sophistic  age. 

The  Sophistic  culture  has  brought  it  to  pass  that  one's 
understanding  no  longer  stands  still  before  anything,  and 
the  Skeptical,  that  his  heart  is  no  longer  removed  by  any- 
thing. 

So  long  as  man  is  entangled  in  the  movements  of  the 
'.vorld  and  embarrassed  by  relations  to  the  world — and 
ae  is  so  till  the  end  of  antiquity,  because  his  heart  still  has 
.o  struggle  for  independence  from  the  worldly — so  long 
ae  is  not  yet  spirit ;  for  spirit  is  without  body,  and  has  no 
elations  to  the  world  and  corporality;  for  it  the  world 
loes  not  exist,  nor  natural  bonds,  but  only  the  spiritual, 
md  spiritual  bonds.    Therefore  man  must  first  become  so 
completely  unconcerned  and  reckless,  so  altogether  with- 
out relations,  as  the  Skeptical  culture  presents  him — so 
altogether  indifferent  to  the  world  that  even  its  falling  in 
ruins  would  not  move  him — before  he  could  feel  himself 
as  worldless,  i.  e.  as  spirit.    And  this  is  the  result  of  the 
gigantic  work  of  the  ancients :  that  man  knows  himself  as 
a  being  without  relations  and  without  a  world,  as  spirit. 

Only  now,  after  all  worldly  care  has  left  him,  is  he  all 
n  all  to  himself,  is  he  only  for  himself,  i.  e.  he  is  spirit  for 
:lie  spirit,  or,  in  plainer  language,  he  cares  only  for  the 
spiritual. 

In  the^Christian  wisdom  of  serpents  and  innocence  of 
doves  the  two  sides — understanding  and  heart — of  the 
ancient  liberation  of  mind  are  so  completed  that  they  ap- 
pear young  and  new  again,  and  neither  the  one  nor  the 


20 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWI^ 


other  lets  itself  be  bluffed  any  longer  by  the  worldly  and 
natural. 

Thus  the  ancients  mounted  to  spirit,  and  strove  to  be- 
come spiritual.  But  a  man  who  wishes  to  be  active  as 
spirit  is  drawn  to  quite  other  tasks  than  he  was  able  to 
set  himself  formerly:  to  tasks  which  really  give  some- 
thing to  do  to  the  spirit  and  not  to  mere  sense  of  acute- 
ness,*  which  exerts  itself  only  to  become  master  of  things. 
The  spirit  busies  itself  solely  about  the  spiritual,  and  seeks 
out  the  ^'traces  of  mind"  in  everything;  to  the  believing 
spirit  ''everything  comes  from  God,"  and  interests  him 
only  to  the  extent  that  it  reveals  this  origin ;  to  the  philo- 
sophic spirit  everything  appears  with  the  stamp  of  reason, 
and  interests  him  only  so  far  as  he  is  able  to  discover  in  it 
reason,  i,  e.  spiritual  content. 

Not  the  spirit,  then,  which  has  to  do  with  absolutely 
nothing  unspiritual,  with  no  thing^  but  only  with  the  es- 
sence which  exists  behind  and  above  things,  with  thoughts 
— not  that  did  the  ancients  exert,  for  they  did  not  yet  have 
it ;  no,  they  had  only  reached  the  point  of  struggling  and 
longing  for  it,  and  therefore  sharpened  it  against  their  too- 
powerful  foe,  the  world  of  sense  (but  what  would  not 
have  been  sensuous  for  them,  since  Jehovah  or  the  gods 
of  the  heathen  were  yet  far  removed  from  the  conception 
"God  is  spirit/'  since  the  ''heavenly  fatherland"  had  not 
yet  stepped  into  the  place  of  the  sensuous,  etc.?) — they 
sharpened  against  the  world  of  sense  their  sense,  their 
acuteness.  To  this  day  the  Jews,  those  precocious  children 
of. antiquity,  have  got  no  farther;  and  with  all  the  subtlety 
and  strength  of  their  prudence  and  understanding,  which 
easily  becomes  master  of  things  and  forces  them  to  obey 
it,  they  cannot  discover  spirit,  which  takes  no  account 
whatever  of  things. 

The  Christian  has  spiritual  interests,  because  he  allows 
himself  to  be  a  spiritual  man;  the  Jew  does  not  even 


*  Italicized  in  the  original  for  the  sake  of  its  etymology, 
Scharfsinn  =:'*sharp-sense**   Compare  next  paragraph. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  21 


understand  these  interests  in  their,  purity,  because  he  does 
not  allow  himself  to  assign  no  value  to  things.  He  does 
not  arrive  at  pure  spirtuality,  a  spirituality  such  as  is 
religiously  expressed,  e,  g.  in  the  faith  of  Christians, 
which  alone  (i.  e.  without  works)  justifies.  Their  un- 
spirituality  sets  Jews  forever  apart  from  Christians ;  for 
the  spiritual  man  is  incomprehensible  to  the  unspiritual, 
as  the  unspiritual  is  contemptible  to  the  spiritual.  But 
the  Jews  have  only  ''the  spirit  of  this  world." 

The  ancient  acuteness  and  profundity  lies  as  far  from 
the  spirit  and  the  spirituality  of  the  Christian  world  as 
earth  from  heaven. 

He  who  feels  himself  as  free  spirit  is  not  oppressed  and 
made  anxious  by  the  things  of  this  world,  because  he  does 
not  care  for  them ;  if  one  is  still  to  feel  their  burden,  he 
must  be  narrow  enough  to  attach  weight  to  them — as  is 
evidently  the  case,  for  instance,  when  one  is  still  con- 
cerned for  his  *'dear  life."    He  to  whom  everything 
centres  in  knowing  and  conducting  himself  as  a  free  spirit 
gives  little  heed  to  how  scantily  he  is  supplied  meanwhile, 
and  does  not  reflect  at  all  on  how  he  must  make  his  ar- 
rangements to  have  a  thoroughly  free  or  enjoyable  life. 
He  is  not  disturbed  by  the  inconveniences  of  the  life  that 
depends  on  things,  because  he  lives  only  spiritually  and 
on  spiritual  food,  while  aside  from  this  he  only  gulps 
things  down  like  a  beast,  hardly  knowing  it,  and  dies 
bodily,  to  be  sure,  when  his  fodder  gives  out,  but  knows 
himself  immortal  as  spirit,  and  closes  his  eyes  with  an 
adoration  or  a  thought.  His  life  is  occupation  with  the 
spiritual,  is — thinking;  the  rest  does  not  bother  him;  let 
him  busy  himself  with  the  spiritual  in  any  way  that  he  can 
and  chooses — in  devotion,  in  contemplation,  or  in  philo- 
sophic cognition — his  doing  is  always  thinking ;  and  there- 
fore Descartes,  to  whom  this  had  at  last  become  quite 
clear,  could  lay  down  the  proposition:  "I  think,  that  is—r- 
I  am."   This  means,  my  thinking  is  my  being  or  my  life ; 
only  when  I  live  spiritually  do  I  live ;  only  as  spirit  am  I 
really,  or — I  am  spirit  through  and  through  and  nothing 


22 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


but  spirit  Unlucky  Peter  Schlemihl,  who  has  lost  his 
shadow,  is  the  portrait  of  this  man  become  a  spirit;  for 
the  spirit's  body  is  shadowless. — Over  against  this,  how 
different  among* the  ancients!  Stoutly  and  manfully  as 
they  might  bear  themselves  against  the  might  of  things, 
they  must  yet  acknowledge  the  might  itself,  and  got  no 
farther  than  to  protect  their  life  against  it  as  well  as 
possible:  Only  at  a  late  hour  did  they  recognize  that  their 
*'true  life"  was  not  that  which  they  led  in  the  fight  against 
the  things  of  the  world,  but  the  ''spiritual  life,''  ''turned 
away"  from  these  things ;  and,  when  they  saw  this,  they 
became — Christians,  i.  e.  the  moderns  and  innovators  upon 
the  ancients.  But  the  life  turned  away  from  things,  the 
spiritual  life,  no  longer  draws  any  nourishment  from 
nature,  but  "lives  only  on  thoughts,"  and  therefore  is  no 
longer  "life,"  but — thinking. 

Yet  it  must  not  be  supposed  now  that  the  ancients  were 
without  thoughts,  just  as  the  most  spiritual  man  is  not  to 
be  conceived  of  as  if  he  could  be  without  life.  Rather, 
they  had  their  thoughts  about  everything,  about  the 
world,  man,  the  gods,  etc.,  and  showed  themselves  keenly 
active  in  bringing  all  this  to  their  consciousness.  But  they 
did  not  know  thought,  even  though  they  thought  of  all 
sorts  of  things  and  "worried  themselves  with  their 
thoughts."  Compare  with  their  position  the  Christian 
saying,  "My  thoughts  are  not  your  thoughts ;  as  the 
heaven  is  higher  than  the  earth,  so  are  my  thoughts  higher 
than  your  thoughts,"  and  remember  what  was  said  above 
about  our  child-thoughts. 

What  is  antiquity  seeking,  then?  The  true  enjoyment 
of  life!  You  will  find  that  at  bottom  it  is  all  the  same  as 
"the  true  life." 

The  Greek  poet  Simonides  sings :  "Health  is  the  noblest 
good  for  mortal  man,  the  next  to  this  beauty,  the  third 
riches  acquired  without  guile,  the  fourth  the  eniovment 
of  social  pleasures  in  the  company  of  youns^  friends." 
These  are  all  good  things  of  life,  pleasures  of  life.  What 
else  was  Diogenes  of  Sinope  seeking  for  than  the  true 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  23 


enjoyment  of  life,  which  he  discovered  in  having  the  least 
possible  wants?  What  else  Aristippus,  who  found  it  in 
a  cheery  temper  under  all  circumstances  ?  They  are  seek- 
ing for  cheery,  unclounded  life- courage,  for  cheeriness; 
they  are  seeking  tc  "be  of  good  cheer ^ 

The  Stoics  want  to  realize  the  zvise  man,  the  man  with 
practical  philosophy,  the  man  who  knozvs  how  to  live — 
a  wise  life,  therefore ;  they  find  him  in  contempt  for  the 
world,  in  a  life  without  development,  without  spreading; 
out,  without  friendly  relations  with  the  world,  i.  e.  in  the 
isolated  life,  in  life  as  life,  not  in  life  with  others;  only 
the  Stoic  lives,  all  else  is  dead  for  him.  The  Epicureans^ 
on  the  contrary,  demand  a  moving  life. 

The  ancients,  as  they  want  to  be  of  good  cheer,  desire 
good  living  (the  Jews  especially  a  long  life,  blessed  with 
children  and  goods),  eudaemonia,  well-being  in  the  most 
A^arious  forms.  Democritus,  e,  g.,  praises  as  such  the 
"calm  of  the  soul"  in  which  one  "lives  smoothly,  without 
fear  and  without  excitement." 

So  what  he  thinks  is  that  with  this  he  gets  on  best,  pro- 
vides for  himself  the  best  lot,  and  gets  through  the  world 
best.  But  as  he  cannot  get  rid  of  the  world — and  in  fact 
cannot  for  the  very  reason  that  his  whole  activity  is  taken 
up  in  the  effort  to  get  rid  of  it,  that  is,  in  repelling  the 
7vorld  (for  which  it  is  yet  necessary  that  what  can  be  and 
is  repelled  should  remain  existing,  otherwise  there  would 
no  longer  be  anything  to  repel) — he  reaches  at  most  an 
extreme  degree  of  liberation,  and  is  distinguishable  only 
in  degree  from  the  less  liberated.  If  he  even  got  as  far 
as  the  deadening  of  the  earthly  sense,  which  at  last  admits 
only  the  monotonous  whisper  of  the  word  ''Brahm,"  he 
nevertheless  would  not  be  essentially  distinguishable  from 
the  sensual  man. 

Even  the  Stoic  attitude  and  manly  virtue  amounts  only 
to  this — that  one  must  maintain  and  assert  himself  against 
the  world;  and  the  ethics  of  the  Stoics  (their  only 
science,  since  they  could  tell  nothing  about  the  spirit  but 
how  it  should  behave  toward  the  world,  and  of  nature 


24 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


[physics]  only  this,  that  the  wise  man  must  assert  himself 
against  it)  is  not  a  doctrine  of  the  spirit,  but  only  a  doc- 
trine of  the  repelling  of  the  world  and  of  self-assertion 
against  the  world.  And  this  consists  in  "imperturbability 
and  equanimity  of  life,"  and  so  in  the  most  explicit  Roman 
virtue. 

The  Romans  too  (Horace,  Cicero,  etc.)  went  no  further 
than  this  practical  philosophy. 

The  comfort  (hedone)  of  the  Epicureans  is  the  same 
practical  philosophy  the  Stoics  teach,  only  trickier,  more 
deceitful.  They  teach  only  another  behavior  toward  the 
world,  exhort  us  only  to  take  a  shrewd  attitude  toward 
the  world ;  the  world  must  be  deceived,  for  it  is  my  enemy. 

The  break  with  the  world  is  completely  carried  through 
by  the  Skeptics.  My  entire  relation  to  the  world  is 
''worthless  and  truthless."  Timon  says,  ''The  feelings 
and  thoughts  which  we  draw  from  the  world  contain  no 
truth.''  "What  is  truth?"  cries  Pilate.  According  to 
Pyrrho's  doctrine  the  world  is  neither  good  nor  bad, 
neither  beautiful  nor  ugly,  etc.,  but  these  are  predicates 
which  I  give  it.  Timon  says  that  "in  itself  nothing  is 
either  good  or  bad,  but  man  only  thinks  it  thus  or  thus" ; 
to  face  the  world  only  ataraxia  (unmovedness)  and 
aphasia  (speechlessness — or,  in  other  words,  isolated  in- 
wardness) are  left.  There  is  "no  longer  any  truth  to  be 
recognized"  in  the  world;  things  contradict  themselves; 
thoughts  about  things  are  without  distinction  (good  and 
bad  are  all  the  same,  so  that  what  one  calls  good  another 
finds  bad)  ;  here  the  recognition  of  'truth"  is  at  an  end, 
and  only  the  man  without  power  of  recognition,  the  man 
who  finds  in  the  world  nothing  to  recognize,  is  left,  and 
this  man  just  leaves  the  truth- vacant  w^orld  where  it  is  and 
takes  no  account  of  it. 

So  antiquity  gets  through  with  the  world  of  things,  the 
order  of  the  world,  the  world  as  a  whole ;  but  to  the  order 
of  the  world,  or  the  things  of  this  world,  belong  not  only 
nature,  but  all  relations  in  which  man  sees  himself  placed 
by  nature,  e.  g,  the  family,  the  community — in  short,  the 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  25 


so-called  ''natural  bonds/'  With  the  world  of  the  spirit 
Christianity  then  begins.  The  man  who  still  faces  the 
world  armed  is  the  ancient,  the — heathen  (to  which  class 
the  Jew,  too,  as  non-Christian,  belongs)  ;  the  man  who 
has  come  to  be  led  by  nothing  but  his  ''heart's  pleasure, 
his  fellow-feeling,  his — spirit,  is  the  modern,  the— - 
Christian. 

As  the  ancients  worked  toward  the  conquest  of  the 
world  and  strove  to  release  man  from  the  heavy  trammels 
of  connection  with  other  things,  at  last  they  came  also  to 
the  dissolution  of  the  State  and  giving  preference  to 
everything  private.  Of  course  community,  family,  etc., 
as  natural  relations,  are  burdensome  hindrances  which 
diminish  my  spiritual  freedom. 

IL— THE  MODERNS 

"If  any  man  be  in  Christ,  he  is  a  new  creature;  the  old 
is  passed  away,  behold,  all  is  become  nezv^^ 

As  it  was  said  above,  "To  the  ancients  the  world  was  a 
truth,''  we  must  say  here,  "To  the  modern  the  spirit  was  a 
truth" ;  but  here,  as  there,  we  must  not  omit  the  supple- 
ment, "a  truth  whose  untruth  they  tried  to  get  back  of, 
and  at  last  they  really  do." 

A  course  similar  to  that  which  antiquity  took  may  be 
demonstrated  in  Christianity  also,  in  that  the  understand- 
ing was  held  a  prisoner  under  the  dominion  of  the  Chris- 
tian dogmas  up  to  the  time  preparatory  to  the  Reforma- 
tion, but  in  the  pre-Reformation  century  asserted  itself 
sophistically  and  played  heretical  pranks  with  all  tenets 
of  the  faith.  And  the  talk  then  was,  especially  in  Italy 
and  at  the  Roman  court,  "If  only  the  heart  remains 
Christian-minded,  the  understanding  may  go  right  on 
taking  its  pleasure." 
Long  before  the  Reformation  people  were  so  thoroughly 


*  2  Cor.  5,  17.  [The  words  ''new"  and  "modern"  are  the  same 
in  German.] 


26 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


accustomed  to  fine-spun  "wranglings"  that  the  pope,  and 
most  others,  looked  on  Luther's  appearance  too  as  a  mere 
^'wranghng  of  monks"  at  first.  Humanism  corresponds 
to  Sophisticism,  and,  as  in  the  time  of  the  Sophists,  Greek 
Hfe  stood  in  its  fullest  bloom  (the  Periclean  age),  so  the 
most  brilliant  things  happened  in  the  time  of  Humanism, 
or,  as  one  might  perhaps  also  say,  of  Machiavellianism 
(printing,  the  New  World,  etc.).  At  this  time  the  heart 
was  still  far  from  wanting  to  relieve  itself  of  its  Christian 
contents. 

But  finally  the  Reformation,  like  Socrates,  took  hold 
seriously  of  the  heart  itself,  and  since  then  hearts  have 
kept  growing  visibly — more  unchristian.  As  with  Luther 
people  began  to  take  the  matter  to  heart,  the  outcome  ot 
this  step  of  the  Reformation  must  be  that  the  heart  also 
gets  lightened  of  the  heavy  burden  of  Christian  faith. 
The  heart,  from  day  to  day  more  unchristian,  loses  the 
contents  with  w^hich  it  had  busied  itself,  till  at  last  nothing 
but  empty  zvarmheartedness  is  left  it,  the  quite  general 
love  of  men,  the  love  of  Mmt,  the  consciousness  of  free- 
dom, ''self-consciousness." 

Only  so  is  Christianity  complete,  because  it  has  become 
bald,  withered,  and  void  of  contents.  There  are  now  no 
contents  whatever  against  which  the  heart  does  not  mut- 
iny, unless  indeed  the  heart  unconsciously  or  without  ''self- 
consciousness"  lets  them  slip  in.  The  heart  criticises  to 
death  with  hard-hearted  mercilessness  everything  that 
wants  to  make  its  way  in,  and  is  capable  (except,  as  be- 
fore, uncon'^ciously  or  taken  bv  surprise)  of  no  friendship, 
no  love.  What  could  there  be  in  men  to  love,  since  they 
are  all  alike  "egoists,"  none  of  them  maw  as  such,  i.  e.  none 
spirit  onlyf  The  Christian  loves  only  the  spirit;  but 
where  could  one  be  found  who  should  be  really  nothing 
but  spirit? 

To  have  a  liking  for  the  corporeal  man  with  hide  and 
hair — why,  that  would  no  longer  be  a  "spiritual"  warm- 
heartedness, it  would  be  treason  against  "pure"  warm- 
heartedness, the  "theoretical  regard."    For  pure  warm- 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  27 


heartedness  is  by  no  means  to  be  conceived  as  like  that 
kindliness  that  gives  everybody  a  friendly  hand-shake ;  on 
the  contrary,  pure,  warm-heartedness  is  warm-hearted 
toward  nobody,  it  is  only  a  theoretical  interest,  concern 
for  man  as  man,  not  as.  a  person.  The  person  is  repulsive 
to  it  because  of  being  "egoistic,''  because  of  not  being  that 
abstraction,  Man.  But  it  is  only  for  the  abstraction  that 
one  can  have  a  theoretical  regard.  To  pure  warm- 
heartedness or  pure  theory  men  exist  only  to  be  criticised, 
scoffed  at,  and  thoroughly  despised ;  to  it,  no  less  than  to 
the  fanatical  parson,  they  are  only  ''filth"  and  other  such 
nice  things. 

Pushed  to  this  extremity  of  disinterested  warm-hearted- 
ness, we  must  finally  become  conscious  that  the  spirit, 
which  alone  the  Christian  loves,  is  nothing;  in  other  words, 
that  the  spirit  is — a  lie. 

What  has  here  been  set  down  roughly,  summarily,  and 
doubtless  as  yet  incomprehensibly,  will,  it  is  to  be  hoped, 
become  clear  as  we  go  on. 
I  Let  us  take  up  the  inheritance  left  by  the  ancients,  and, 
as  active  workmen,  do  with  it  as  much  as — can  be  done 
with  it!  The  world  lies  despised  at  our  feet,  far  beneath 
us  and  our  heaven,  into  which  its  mighty  arms  are  no 
longer  thrust  and  its  stupefying  breath  does  not  come. 
Seductively  as  it  may  pose,  it  can  delude  nothing  but  our 
sense;  it  cannot  lead  astray  the  spirit — and  spirit  alone, 
after  all,  we  really  are.  Having  once  got  back  of  things, 
the  spirit  has  also  got  above  them,  and  become  free  from 
their  bonds,  emancipated,  supernal,  free.  So  speaks 
"spiritual  freedom." 

To  the  spirit  which,  after  long  toil,  has  got  rid  of  the 
world,  the  worldless  spirit,  nothing  is  left  after  the  loss 
of  the  world  and  the  worldly  but — the  spirit  and  the 
spiritual. 

Yet,  as  it  has  only  moved  away  from  the  world  and 
made  of  itself  a  being  free  from  the  world,  without  being 
able  really  to  annihilate  the  world,  this  remains  to  it  a 
stumbling-block  that  cannot  be  cleared  away,  a  discredited 


28 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


existence ;  and,  as,  on  the  other  hand,  it  knows  and  recog- 
nizes nothing  but  the  spirit  and  the  spiritual,  it  must 
perpetually  carry  about  with  it  the  longing  to  spiritualize 
the  world,  i.  e,  to  redeem  it  from  the  ''black  list."  There- 
fore, like  a  youth,  it  goes  about  with  plans  for  the  re- 
demption or  improvement  of  the  world. 

The  ancients,  we  saw,  served  the  natural,  the  worldly, 
the  natural  order  of  the  world,  but  they  incessantly  asked 
themselves  whether  they  could  not,  then,  relieve  them- 
selves of  this  service  :  and,  when  they  had  tired  them- 
selves to  death  in  ever-renewed  attempts  at  revolt,  then, 
among  their  last  sighs,  was  born  to  them  the  God,  the 
''conqueror  of  the  world."  All  their  doing  had  been 
nothing  but  wisdom  of  the  world,  an  effort  to  get  back  of 
the  world  and  above  it.  And  what  is  the  wisdom  of  the 
many  following  centuries  ?  What  did  the  moderns  try  to 
get  back  of?  No  longer  to  get  back  of  the  world,  for 
the  ancients  had  accomplished  that ;  but  back  of  the  God 
whom  the  ancients  bequeathed  to  them,  back  of  the  God 
who  "is  spirit,"  back  of  everything  that  is  the  spirit's,  the 
spiritual.  But  the  activity  of  the  spirit,  which  "searches 
even  the  depths  of  the  Godhead,"  is  theology.  If  the 
ancients  have  nothing  to  show  but  wisdom  of  the  world, 
the  modern  never  did  nor  do  make  their  way  further  than 
theology.  We  shall  see  later  that  even  the  newest  revolts 
against  God  are  nothing  but  the  extremest  efforts  of  "the- 
ology," i.  e.  theological  insurrections. 

§  1. — The  Spirit 

The  realm  of  spirits  is  monstrously  great,  there  is  an 
infinite  deal  of  the  spiritual ;  yet  let  us  look  and  see  what 
the  spirit,  this  bequest  of  the  ancients,  properly  is. 

Out  of  their  birth-pangs  it  came  forth,  but  they  them- 
selves could  not  utter  themselves  as  spirit ;  they  could  give 
birth  to  it,  it  itself  must  speak.  The  "born  God,  the  Son 
of  Man,"  is  the  first  to  utter  the  word  that  the  spirit,  i.  e. 
he,  God,  has  to  do  with  nothing  earthly  and  no  earthly 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  29 


relationship,  but  solely  with  the  spirit  and  spiritual  re- 
lationships. 

Is  my  courage,  indestructible  under  all  the  world's 
blows,  my  inflexibility  and  my  obduracy,  perchance 
already  spirit  in  the  full  sense,  because  the  world  cannot 
touch  it?  Why,  then  it  would  not  yet  be  at  enmity  with 
the  world,  and  all  its  action  would  consist  merely  in  not 
succumbing  to  the  world.  No,  so  long  as  it  does  not 
busy  itself  with  itself  alone^  so  long  as  it  does  not  have  to 
do  with  its  world,  the  spiritual  alone,  it  is  not  free  spirit, 
but  only  the  ''spirit  of  this  world,"  the  spirit  fettered  to  it 
The  spirit  is  free  spirit,  i.  e.  really  spirit,  only  in  a  world 
of  its  own;  in  ''this,"  the  earthly  world,  it  is  a  stranger. 
Only  through  a  spiritual  world  is  the  spirit  really  spirit, 
for  "this"  world  does  not  understand  it  and  does  not 
know  how  to  keep  "the  maiden  from  a  foreign  land"* 
from  departing. 

But  where  is  it  to  get  this  spiritual  world  ?  Where  but 
out  of  itself?  It  must  reveal  itself ;  and  the  words  that  it 
speaks,  the  revelations  in  which  it  unveils  itself,  these  are 
its  world.  As  a  visionary  lives  and  has  his  world  only  in 
the  visionary  pictures  that  he  himself  creates,  as  a  crazy 
man  generates  for  himself  his  own  dream-world,  without 
which  he  could  not  be  crazy,  so  the  spirit  must  create  for 
itself  its  spirit  world,  and  is  not  spirit  till  it  creates  it. 

Thus  its  creations  make  it  spirit,  and  by  its  creatures 
we  know  it,  the  creator;  in  them  it  lives,  they  are  its 
world. 

Now,  what  is  the  spirit?  It  is  the  creator  of  a  spiritual 
world!  Even  in  you  and  me  people  do  not  recognize 
spirit  till  they  see  that  we  have  appropriated  to  ourselves 
something  spiritual — i.  e,y  though  thoughts  may  have  been 
set  before  us,  we  have  at  least  brought  them  to  life  in 
ourselves;  for,  as  long  as  we  were  children,  the  most 
edifying  thoughts  might  have  been  laid  before  us  without 
our  wishing,  or  being  able  to  reproduce  them  in  ourselves. 


*  [Title  of  a  poem  -by  Schiller.] 


30  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


So  the  spirit  also  exists  only  when  it  creates  something 
spiritual;  it  is  real  only  together  with  the  spiritual,  its 
creature. 

As,  then,  we  know  it  by  its  works,  the  question  is  what 
these  works  are.  But  the  works  or  children  of  the  spirit 
are  nothing  else  but — spirits. 

If  I  had  before  me  Jews,  Jews  of  the  true  metal,  I 
should  have  to  stop  here  and  leave  them  standing  before 
this  mystery  as  for  almost  two  thousand  years  they  have 
remained  standing  before  it,  unbelieving  and  without 
knowledge.  But,  as  you,  my  dear  reader,  are  at  least 
not  a  full-blooded  Jew — for  such  a  one  will  not  go  astray 
as  far  as  this — we  will  still  go  along  a  bit  of  road  together, 
till  perhaps  you  too  turn  your  back  on  me  because  I  laugh 
in  your  face. 

If  somebody  told  you  you  were  altogether  spirit,  you 
would  take  hold  of  your  body  and  not  believe  him,  but 
answer:  ''I  have  a  spirit,  no  doubt,  but  do  not  exist  only 
as  spirit,  but  am  a  man  with  a  body."  You  would  still 
distinguish  yourself  from  *'your  spirit."  ''But,"  replies 
he,  "it  is  your  destiny,  even  though  now  you  are  yet  going 
about  in  the  fetters  of  the  body,  to  be  one  day  a  'blessed 
spirit,'  and,  however  you  may  conceive  of  the  future 
aspect  of  your  spirit,  so  much  is  yet  certain,  that  in  death 
you  will  put  off  this  body  and  yet  keep  yourself,  i.  e.  your 
spirit,  for  all  eternity;  accordingly  your  spirit  is  the 
eternal  and  true  in  you,  the  body  only  a  dwelling  here 
below,  which  you  may  leave  and  perhaps  exchange  for 
another." 

Now  you  believe  him!  For  the  present,  indeed,  you 
are  not  spirit  only;  but,  when  you  emigrate  from  the 
mortal  body,  as  one  day  you  must,  then  you  will  have  to 
help  yourself  without  the  body,  and  therefore  it  is  needful 
that  you  be  prudent  and  care  in  time  for  your  proper  self. 
^'What  should  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gained  the  whole  world 
and  yet  suffered  damage  in  his  soul  ?" 

But,  even  granted  that  doubts,  raised  in  the  course  of 
time  against  the  tenets  of  the  Christian  faith,  have  long 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  31 


since  robbed  you  of  faith  in  the  immortaHty  of  your 
spirit,  you  have  nevertheless  left  one  tenet  undisturbed, 
and  still  ingenuously  adhere  to  the  one  truth,  that  the 
spirit  is  your  better  part,  and  that  the  spiritual  has 
greater  claims  on  you  than  anything  else.  Despite  all 
your  atheism,  in  zeal  against  egoism  you  concur  with  the 
believers  in  immortality. 

But  whom  do  you  think  of  under  the  name  of  egoist  ? 
A  man  who,  instead  of  living  to  an  idea — i,  e,  a  spiritual 
thing — and  sacrificing  to  it  his  personal  advantage,  serves 
the  latter.  A  good  patriotic,  e.  g.,  brings  his  sacrifice  to  the 
altar  of  the  fatherland ;  but  it  cannot  be  disputed  that  the 
fatherland  is  an  idea,  since  for  beasts  incapable  of  mind,* 
or  children  as  yet  without  mind,  there  is  no  fatherland 
and  no  patriotism.  Now,  if  any  one  does  not  approve 
himself  as  a  good  patriot,  he  betrays  his  egoism  with 
reference  to  the  fatherland.  And  so  the  matter  stands 
in  innumerable  other  cases:  he  who  in  human  society 
takes  the  benefit  of  a  prerogative  sins  egoistically  against 
the  idea  of  equality ;  he  who  exercises  dominion  is  blamed 
as  an  egoist  against  the  idea  of  liberty — etc. 

You  despise  the  egoist  because  he  puts  the  spiritual  in 
the  background  as  compared  with  the  personal,  and  has 
his  eyes  on  himself  where  you  would  like  to  see  him  act 
to  favor  an  idea.  The  distinction  between  you  is  that  he 
makes  himself  the  central  point,  but  you  the  spirit ;  or 
that  you  cut  your  identity  in  two  and  exalt  your  ''proper 
self,''  the  spirit,  to  be  ruler  of  the  paltrier  remainder,  while 
he  will  hear  nothing  of  this  cutting  in  two,  and  pursues 
spiritual  and  material  interests  just  as  he  pleases.  You 
think,  to  be  sure,  that  you  are  falling  foul  of  those  only 


*  [The  reader  will  remember  (it  is  to  be  hoped  he  has  never 
forgotten)  that  ''mind"  and  ''spirit"  are  one  and  the  same  word  in 
German.  For  several  pages  back  the  connection  of  the  discourse 
has  seemed  to  require  the  almost  exclusive  use  of  the  translation 
''spirit,"  but  to  complete  the  sense  it  has  often  been  necessary 
that  the  reader  recall  the  thought  of  its  identity  with  "mind^'* 
as  stated  in  a  previous  note.] 


32 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


who  enter  into  no  spiritual  interest  at  all,  but  in  fact  you 
curse  at  everybody  who  does  not  look  on  the  spiritual 
interest  as  his  "true  and  highest"  interest.  You  carry 
your  knightly  service  for  this  beauty  so  far  that  you 
affirm  her  to  be  the  only  beauty  of  the  world.  You  live 
not  to  yourself,  but  to  your  spirit  and  to  what  is  the 
spirit's — i.  e.  ideas. 

x\s  the  spirit  exists  only  in  its  creating  of  the  spiritual, 
let  us  take  a  look  about  us  for  its  first  creation.  If  only 
it  has  accomplished  this,  there  follows  thenceforth  a 
natural  propagation  of  creations,  as  according  to  the  myth 
only  the  first  human  beings  needed  to  be  created,  the  rest 
of  the  race  propagating  itself.  The  first  creation,  on  the 
other  hand,  must  come  forth  ''out  of  nothing" — i.  e.,  the 
spirit  has  toward  its  realization  nothing  but  itself,  or 
rather  it  has  not  yet  even  itself,  but  must  create  itself  ; 
hence  its  first  creation  is  itself,  the  spirit.  Mystical  as 
this  sounds,  we  yet  go  through  it  as  an  every-day  experi- 
ence. Are  you  a  thinking  being  before  you  think?  In 
creating  the  first  thought  you  create  yourself,  the  thinking 
one  ;  for  you  do  not  think  before  you  thing  a  thought,  i.  e. 
have  a  thought.  Is  it  not  your  singing  that  first  makes 
you  a  singer,  your  talking  that  makes  you  a  talker  ?  Now, 
so  too  it  is  the  production  of  the  spiritual  that  first  makes 
3^ou  a  spirit. 

Meantime,  as  you  distinguish  yourself  from  the  thinker, 
singer,  and  talker,  so  you  no  less  distinguish  yourself  from 
the  spirit,  and  feel  very  clearly  that  you  are  something 
beside  spirit.  But,  as  in  the  thinking  ego  hearing  and 
sight  easily  vanish  in  the  enthusiasm  of  thought,  so  you 
also  have  been  seized  by  the  spirit-enthusiasm,  and  you 
now  long  with  all  your  might  to  become  wholly  spirit 
and  to  be  dissolved  in  spirit.  The  spirit  is  your  ideal,  the 
unattained,  the  other-worldly ;  spirit  is  the  name  of  your 
— god,  ''God  is  spirit.'' 

Against  all  that  is  not  spirit  you  are  a  zealot,  and  there- 
fore you  play  the  zealot  against  yourself  who  cannot  get 
rid  of  a  remainder  of  the  non-spiritual.    Instead  of  say- 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  33 


ing,  'T  am  more  than  spirit/'  you  say  with  contrition,  'T 
am  less  than  spirit;  and  spirit,  pure  spirit,  or  the  spirit 
that  is  nothing  but  spirit,  I  can  only  think  of,  but  am  not ; 
and,  since  I  am  not  it,  it  is  another,  exists  as  another, 
whom  I  call  'God'/' 

It  lies  in  the  nature  of  the  case  that  the  spirit  that  is  to 
exist  as  pure  spirit  must  be  another  worldly  one,  for,  since 
I  am  not  it,  it  follows  that  it  can  only  be  outside  me; 
since  in  any  case  a  human  being  is  not  fully  compre- 
hended in  the  concept  "spirit,''  it  follows  that  the  pure 
spirit,  the  spirit  as  such,  can  only  be  outside  of  men,  be- 
yond the  human  world — not  earthly,  but  heavenly. 

Only  from  this  disunion  in  which  I  and  the  spirit  lie; 
only  because  'T"  and  "spirit"  are  not  names  for  one  and 
the  same  thing,  but  different  names  for  completely  dif- 
ferent things ;  only  because  I  am  not  spirit  and  spirit  not 
I — only  from  this  do  we  get  a  quite  tautological  explana- 
tion of  the  necessity  that  the  spirit  dwells  in  the  other 
world,  i,  e.  is  God. 

But  from  this  it  also  appears  how  thoroughly  theo- 
logical is  the  liberation  that  Feuerbach*  is  laboring  to 
give  us.  What  he  says  is  that  we  had  only  mistaken  our 
own  essence,  and  therefore  looked  for  it  in  the  other 
world,  but  that  now,  when  we  see  that  God  was  only  our 
human  essence,  we  must  recognize  it  again  as  ours  and 
move  it  back  out  of  the  other  world  into  this.  To  God, 
who  is  spirit,  Feuerbach  gives  the  name  "Our  Essence/' 
Can  we  put  up  with  this,  that  "Our  Essence"  is  brought 
into  opposition  to  tis — that  we  are  split  into  an  essential 
and  an  unessential  self?  Do  we  not  therewith  go  back 
into  the  dreary  misery  of  seeing  ourselves  banished  out 
of  ourselves? 

What  have  we  gained,  then,  when  for  a  variation  we 
have  transferred  into  ourselves  the  divine  outside  us? 
Are  we  that  which  is  in  us?  As  little  as  we  are  that 
which  is  outside  us.    I  am  as  little  my  heart  as  I  am  my 


*  Essence  of  Christianity." 


34 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


sweetheart,  this  ''other  self"  of  mine.  Just  because  we 
are  not  the  spirit  that  dwells  in  us,  just  for  that  reason 
we  had  to  take  it  and  set  it  outside  us ;  it  was  not  we,  did 
not  coincide  with  us,  and  therefore  we  could  not  think  of 
it  as  existing  otherwise  than  outside  us,  on  the  other  side 
from  us,  in  the  other  w^orld. 

With  the  strength  of  despair  Feuerbach  clutches  at  the 
total  substance  of  Christianity,  not  to  throw  it  away,  no, 
to  drag  it  to  himself,  to  draw  it,  the  long-yearned-for, 
ever-distant,  out  of  its  heaven  with  a  last  effort,  and  keep 
it  by  him  forever.  Is  not  that  a  clutch  of  the  uttermost 
despair,  a  clutch  for  life  or  death,  and  is  it  not  at  the  same 
time  the  Christian  yearning  and  hungering  for  the  other 
world  ?  The  hero  wants  not  to  go  into  the  other  world, 
but  to  draw  the  other  world  to  him,  and  compel  it  to 
become  this  world !  And  since  then  has  not  all  the  world, 
with  more  or  less  consciousness,  been  crying  that  ''this 
world''  is  the  vital  point,  and  heaven  must  come  dow^n  on 
earth  and  be  experienced  even  here  ? 

Let  us,  in  brief,  set  Feuerbach's  theological  view  and 
our  contradiction  over  against  each  other !  "The  essence 
of  man  is  man's  supreme  being  now  by  religion,  to  be 
sure,  the  supreme  being  is  called  God  and  regarded  as  an 
objective  essence,  but  in  truth  it  is  only  man's  own  essence ; 
and  therefore  the  turning  point  of  the  world's  history  is 
that  henceforth  no  longer  God,  but  man,  is  to  appear  to 
man  as  God/'f 

To  this  we  reply:  The  supreme  being  is  indeed  the 
essence  of  man,  but,  just  because  it  is  his  essence  and  not 
he  himself,  it  remiains  quite  immaterial  whether  we  see  it 
outside  him  and  view  it  as  "God,"  or  find  it  in  him  and 
call  it  "Essence  of  Man"  or  "Man."  /  am  neither  God  nor 


*  [Or,  "highest  essence."  The  word  Wesen,  which  means  both 
"essence"  and  "being,"  will  be  translated  now  one  way  and  now 
the  other  in  the  following  pages.  The  reader  must  bear  in  mind 
that  these  two  words  are  identical  in  German ;  and  so  are  "su- 
preme" and  "highest."] 

t  Cf.  e.  g.  "Essence  of  Christianity,"  p.  402. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  35 


Man,^  neither  the  supreme  essence  nor  my  essence,  and 
therefore  it  is  all  one  in  the  main  whether  I  think  of  the 
essence  as  in  me  or  outside  me.  Nay,  we  really  do  always 
think  of  the  supreme  being  as  in  both  kinds  of  otherworld- 
liness,  the  inward  and  outward,  at  once;  for  the  "Spirit 
of  God''  is,  according  to  the  Christian  view,  also  ''our 
spirit,''  and  ''dwells  in  us."t  It  dwells  in  heaven  and 
dwells  in  us;  we  poor  things  are  just  its  "dwelHng,"  and, 
if  Feuerbach  goes  on  to  destroy  its  heavenly  dwelling  and 
force  it  to  move  to  us  bag  and  baggage,  then  we,  its 
earthly  apartments,  will  be  badly  overcrowded. 

But  after  this  digression  (which,  if  we  were  at  all 
proposing  to  work  by  line  and  level,  we  should  have  had 
to  save  for  later  pages  in  order  to  avoid  repetition)  we 
return  to  the  spirit's  first  creation,  the  spirit  itself. 

The  spirit  is  something  other  than  myself.  But  this 
other,  what  is  it? 

§  2. — The  Possessed 

Have  you  ever  seen  a  spirit?  "No,  not  I,  but  my 
grandmother."  Now,  you  see,  it's  just  so  with  me  too; 
I  myself  haven't  seen  any,  but  my  grandmother  had  them 
running  between  her  feet  all  sorts  of  ways,  and  out  of 
confidence  in  our  grandmothers'  honesty  we  believe  in  the 
existence  of  spirits. 

But  had  we  no  grandfathers  then,  and  did  they  not 
shrug  their  shoulders  every  time  our  grandmothers  told 
about  their  ghosts?  Yes,  those  were  unbelieving  men 
who  have  harmed  our  good  religion  much,  those  rational- 
ists !  We  shall  feel  that !  What  else  lies  at  the  bottom 
of  this  warm  faith  in  ghosts,  if  not  the  faith  in  "the  exist- 
ence of  spiritual  beings  in  general,"  and  is  not  this  latter 

*  [That  is,  the  abstract  conception  of  man,  as  in  the  preceding 
sentence.] 

t£.  g.,  Rom.  8,  9,  1  Cor.  3,  16,  John  20,  22,  and  innumerable 
other  passages. 


36 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


itself  disastrously  unsettled  if  saucy  men  of  the  under- 
standing may  disturb  the  former?  The  Romanticists 
were  quite  conscious  what  a  blow  the  very  belief  in  God 
suffered  by  the  laying  aside  of  the  belief  in  spirits  or 
ghosts,  and  they  tried  to  help  us  out  of  the  baleful  con- 
sequences not  only  by  their  reawakened  fairy  world,  but 
at  last,  and  especially,  by  the  "intrusion  of  a  higher 
world/'  by  their  somnambulists,  prophetesses  of  Prevorst, 
etc.  The  good  believers  and  fathers  of  the  church  did  not 
suspect  that  with  the  belief  in  ghosts  the  foundation  of 
religion  was  withdrawn,  and  that  since  then  it  had  been 
floating  in  the  air.  He  who  no  longer  believes  in  any 
ghost  needs  only  to  travel  on  consistently  in  his  unbelief 
to  see  that  there  is  no  separate  being  at  all  concealed  be- 
hind things,  no  ghost  or — what  is  naively  reckoned  as 
synonymous  even  in  our  use  of  words — no  "spirit.'' 

''Spirits  exist Look  about  in  the  world,  and  say  for 
yourself  whether  a  spirit  does  not  gaze  upon  you  out  of 
everything.  Out  of  the  lovely  little  flower  there  speaks 
to  you  the  spirit  of  the  Creator,  who  has  shaped  it  so 
wonderfully ;  the  stars  proclaim  the  spirit  that  established 
their  order.;  from  the  mountain-tops  a  spirit  of  sublimity 
breathes  down;  out  of  the  waters  a  spirit  of  yearning 
murmurs  up ;  and — ^^out  of  men  millions  of  spirits  speak. 
The  mountains  may  sink,  the  flowers  fade,  the  world  of 
stars  fall  in  ruins,  the  men  die — what  matters  the  wreck 
of  these  visible  bodies  ?  The  spirit,  the  "invisible  spirit/' 
abides  eternally! 

Yes,  the  whole  world  is  haunted!  Only  is  haunted? 
Nay,  it  itself  "walks,"  it  is  uncanny  through  and  through, 
it  is  the  wandering  seeming-body  of  a  spirit,  it  is  a  spook. 
What  else  should  a  ghost  be,  then,  than  an  apparent  body, 
but  real  spirit  ?  Well,  the  world  is  "empty,''  is  "naught,'' 
is  only  glamorous  "semblance";  its  truth  is  the  spirit 
alone ;  it  is  the  seeming-body  of  a  spirit. 

Look  out  near  or  far,  a  ghostly  world  surrounds  you 
everywhere;  you  are  always  having  "apparitions"  or 
visions.    Everything  that  appears  to  you  is  only  the 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  37 


phantasm  of  an  indwelling  spirit,  is  a  ghostly  ''appari- 
tion"; the  world  is  to  you  only  a  ''world  of  appearances," 
behind  which  the  spirit  walks.   You  "see  spirits." 

Are  you  perchance  thinking  of  comparing  yourself  with 
the  ancients,  who  saw  gods  everywhere  ?  Gods,  my  dear 
modern,  are  not  spirits;  gods  do  not  degrade  the  world 
to  a  semblance,  and  do  not  spiritualize  it. 

But  to  you  the  whole  world  is  spiritualized,  and  has 
become  an  enigmatical  ghost;  therefore  do  not  wonder 
if  you  likewise  find  in  yourself  nothing  but  a  spook.  Is 
not  your  body  haunted  by  your  spirit,  and  is  not  the 
latter  alone  the  true  and  real,  the  former  only  the  "transi- 
tory, naught"  or  a  "semblance"  ?  Are  we  not  all  ghosts, 
uncanny  beings  that  wait  for  "deliverance" — ^to  wit, 
"spirits"  ? 

Since  the  spirit  appeared  in  the  world,  since  "the  Word 
became  flesh,"  since  then  the  world  has  been  spiritualized, 
enchanted,  a  spook. 

You  have  spirit,  for  you  have  thoughts.  What  are 
your  thoughts?  "Spiritual  entities."  Not  things,  then? 
"No,  but  the  spirit  of  things,  the  main  point  in  all  things, 
the  inmost  in  them,  their — idea."  Consequently  what 
you  think  is  not  only  your  thought?  "On  the  contrary, 
it  is  that  in  the  world  which  is  most  real,  that  which  is 
properly  to  be  called  true;  it  is  the  truth  itself ;  if  I  only 
think  truly,  I  think  the  truth.  I  may,  to  be  sure,  err  with 
regard  to  the  truth,  and  fail  to  recognize  it;  but,  if  I 
recognize  truly,  the  object  of  my  cognition  is  the  truth." 
So,  I  suppose,  you  strive  at  all  times  to  recognize  the 
truth  ?  "To  me  the  truth  is  sacred.  It  may  well  happen 
that  I  find  a  truth  incomplete  and  replace  it  with  a  better, 
but  the  truth  I  cannot  abrogate.  I  believe  in  the  truth, 
therefore  I  search  in  it;  nothing  transcends  it,  it  is 
eternal." 

Sacred,  eternal  is  the  truth;  it  is  the  Sacred,  the 
Eternal.  But  you,  who  let  yourself  be  filled  and  led  by 
this  sacred  thing,  are  yourself  hallowed.  Further,  the 
sacred  is  not  for  your  senses — and  you  never  as  a  sensual 


38 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


man  discover  its  trace — but  for  your  faith,  or,  more 
definitely  still,  for  your  spirit;  for  it  itself,  you  know, 
is  a  spiritual  thing,  a  spirit — is  spirit  for  the  spirit. 

The  sacred  is  by  no  means  so  easily  to  be  set  aside  as 
many  at  present  affirm,  who  no  longer  take  this  ''unsuit- 
able" word  into  their  mouths.  If  even  in  a  single  respect 
I  am  still  upbraided  as  an  "egoist,"  there  is  left  the 
thought  of  something  else  which  I  should  serve  more  than 
myself,  and  which  must  be  to  me  more  important  than 
everything;  in  short,  somewhat  in  which  I  should  have 
to  seek  my  true  welfare,"^  something — ''sacred. "f  How- 
ever human  this  sacred  thing  may  look,  though  it  be  the 
Human  itself,  that  does  not  take  away  its  sacredness,  but' 
at  most  changes  it  from  an  unearthly  to  an  earthly  sacred 
thing,  from  a  divine  one  to  a  human. 

Sacred  things  exist  only  for  the  egoist  who  does  not 
acknowledge  himself,  the  involuntary  egoist,  for  him  who 
is  always  looking  after  his  own  and  yet  does  not  count 
himself  as  the  highest  being,  who  serves  only  himself  and 
at  the  same  time  always  thinks  he  is  serving  a  higher 
being,  who  knows  nothing  higher  than  himself  and  yet  is 
infatuated  about  something  higher ;  in  short,  for  the 
egoist  who  would  like  not  to  be  an  egoist,  and  abases 
himself  (i.  e.  combats  his  egoism),  but  at  the  same  time 
abases  himself  only  for  the  sake  of  "being  exalted,"  and 
therefore  of  gratifying  his  egoism.  Because  he  would 
like  to  cease  to  be  an  egoist,  he  looks  about  in  heaven  and 
earth  for  higher  beings  to  serve  and  sacrifice  himself  to; 
but,  however  much  he  shakes  and  disciplines  himself,  in 
the  end  he  does  all  for  his  own  sake,  and  the  disreputable 
egoism  will  not  come  ofif  him.  On  this  account  I  call  him 
the  involuntary  egoist. 

His  toil  and  care  to  get  away  from  himself  is  nothing  i 
but  the  misunderstood  impulse  to  self-dissolution.    If  you 
are  bound  to  your  past  hour,  if  you  must  babble  to-day 


*  [Heil  ] 


t  [heiligl 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  39 


because  you  babbled  yesterday,*  if  you  cannot  transform 
yourself  each  instant,  you  feel  yourself  fettered  in  slavery 
and  benumbed.  Therefore  over  each  minute  of  your 
existence  a  fresh  minute  of  the  future  beckons  to  you, 
and,  developing  yourself,  you  get  away  ''from  yourself" — 
i.  e.  from  the  self  that  was  at  that  moment.  As  you  are 
at  each  instant,  you  are  your  own  creature,  and  in 
this  very  ''creature''  you  do  not  wish  to  lose  yourself, 
the  creator.  You  are  yourself  a  higher  being  than  you 
are,  and  surpass  yourself.  But  that  yon  are  the  one  who 
is  higher  than  you — i.  e.  that  you  are  not  only  creature, 
but  likewise  your  creator — just  this,  as  an  involuntary 
egoist,  you  fail  to  recognize;  and  therefore  the  "higher 
essence"  is  to  you — an  alienf  essence.  Every  higher  es- 
sence, such  as  truth,  mankind,  etc.,  is  an  essence  over  us. 

Alienness  is  a  criterion  of  the  "sacred."  In  everything 
sacred  there  lies  something  "uncanny,"  i,  e,  strange, t 
such  as  we  are  not  quite  familiar  and  at  home  in.  What 
is  sacred  to  me  is  not  my  own;  and  if,  e.  g.  the  property 
of  others  was  not  sacred  to  me,  I  should  look  on  it  as 
mine,  which  I  should  take  to  myself  when  occasion  of- 
fered. Or,  on  the  other  side,  if  I  regard  the  face  of  the 
Chinese  emperor  as  sacred,  it  remains  strange  to  my  eye, 
which  I  close  at  its  appearance. 

Why  is  an  incontrovertible  mathematical  truth,  which 
lijight  even  be  called  eternal  according  to  the  common 
understanding  of  words,  not — sacred?  Because  it  is  not 
revealed,  or  not  the  revelation  of  a  higher  being.  If  by 
revealed  we  understand  only  the  so-called  religious  truths, 
we  go  far  astray,  and  entirely  fail  to  recognize  the  breadth 

*  How  the  priests  tinkle !  how  important  they 
Would  make  it  out,  that  men  should  come  their  way 
And  babble,  just  as  yesterday,  to-day! 
Oh !  blame  them  not !  They  know  man's  need,  I  say : 
For  he  takes  all  his  happiness  this  way, 
To  babble  just  to  morrow  as  to-day. 

— Translated  from  Goethe*s  ''Venetian  Epigrams!* 
t  [fremdl  t  \ fremd] 


40 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


of  the  concept  "higher  being/'  Atheists  keep  up  their 
scoffing  at  the  higher  being,  which  was  also  honored  under 
the  name  of  the  "highest"  or  etre  supreme,  and  trample 
in  the  dust  one  "proof  of  his  existence''  after  another, 
without  noticing  that  they  themselves,  out  of  need  for  a 
higher  being,  only  annihilate  the  old  to  make  room  for  a 
new.  Is  "Man"  perchance  not  a  higher  essence  than  an 
individual  man,  and  must  not  the  truths,  rights,  and  ideas 
which  result  from  the  concept  of  him  be  honored  and — 
counted  sacred,  as  revelations  of  this  very  concept  ?  For, 
even  though  we  should  abrogate  again  many  a  truth  that 
seemed  to  be  made  manifest  by  this  concept,  yet  this 
would  only  evince  a  misunderstanding  on  our  part,  with- 
out in  the  least  degree  harming  the  sacred  concept  itself 
or  taking  their  sacredness  from  those  truths  that  must 
"rightly"  be  looked  upon  as  its  revelations.  Man  reaches 
beyond  every  individual  man,  and  yet — though  he  be  "his 
essence" — is  not  in  fact  his  essence  (which  rather  would 
be  as  single*  as  he  the  individual  himself),  but  a  general 
and  "higher,"  yes,  for  atheists  "the  highest  essence. "f 
And,  as  the  divine  revelations  were  not  written  down  by 
God  with  his  own  hand,  but  made  public  through  "the 
Lord's  instruments,"  so  also  the  new  highest  essence  does 
not  write  out  its  revelations  itself,  but  lets  them  come  to 
our  knowledge  through  "true  men."  Only  the  new  es- 
sence betrays,  in  fact,  a  more  spiritual  style  of  conception 
than  the  old  God,  because  the  latter  was  still  represented 
in  a  sort  of  embodiness  or  form,  while  the  undimmed 
spirituality  of  the  new  is  retained,  and  no  special  material 
body  is  fancied  for  it.  And  withal  it  does  not  lack  cor- 
poreity, which  even  takes  on  a  yet  more  seductive  appear- 
ance because  it  looks  more  natural  and  mundane  and  con- 
sists in  nothing  less,  than  in  every  bodily  man — yes,  or 
outright  in  "humanity"  or  "all  men."  Thereby  the 
spectralness  of  the  spirit  in  a  seeming-body  has  once  again 
become  really  solid  and  popular. 


*  [einzig] 


t  ["the  supreme  being."] 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  41 


Sacred,  then,  is  the  highest  essence  and  everything  in 
which  this  highest  essence  reveals  or  will  reveal  itself ; 
but  hallowed  are  they  who  recognize  this  highest  essence 
together  with  its  own,  i,  e.  together  with  its  revelations. 
The  sacred  hallows  in  turn  its  reverer,  who  by  his  worship 
becomes  himself  a  saint,  as  likewise  what  he  does  is 
saintly,  a  saintly  walk,  saintly  thoughts  and  actions, 
imaginations  and  aspirations,  etc. 

It  is  easily  understood  that  the  conflict  over  what  is 
revered  as  the  highest  essence  can  be  significant  only  so 
long  as  even  the  most  embittered  opponents  concede  to 
each  other  the  main  point — that  there  is  a  highest  essence 
to  which  worship  or  service  is  due.  If  one  should  smile 
compassionately  at  the  whole  struggle  over  a  highest 
essence,  as  a  Christian  might  at  the  war  of  words  between 
a  Shiite  and  a  Sunnite  or  between  a  Brahman  and  a 
Buddhist,  then  the  hypothesis  of  a  highest  essence  would 
be  null  in  his  eyes,  and  the  conflict  on  this  basis  an  idle 
play.  Whether  then  the  one  God  or  the  three  in  one, 
whether  the  Lutheran  God  or  the  etre  supreme  or  not 
God  at  all,  but  "Man,"  may  represent  the  highest  essence, 
that  makes  no  diflference  at  all  for  him  who  denies  the 
highest  essence  itself,  for  in  his  eyes  those  servants  of  a 
highest  essence  are  one  and  all— pious  people,  the  most 
raging  atheist  not  less  than  the  most  faith-filled  Christian. 

In  the  foremost  place  of  the  sacred,*  then,  stands  the 
highest  essence  and  the  faith  in  this  essence,  our  "holyf 
faith." 

The  Spook 

With  ghosts  we  arrive  in  the  spirit-realm,  in  the  realm 
of  essences. 

What  haunts  the  universe,  and  has  its  occult,  "incom- 
prehensible" being  there,  is  precisely  the  mysterious  spook 
that  we  call  highest  essence.    And  to  get  to  the  bottom 


*  [heilig] 


t  [heilig'] 


42 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


of  this  spook,  to  comprehend  it,  to  discover  reality  in  it 
(to  prove  "the  existence  of  God") — this  task  men  set  to 
themselves  for  thousands  of  years ;  with  the  horrible  im- 
possibility, the  endless  Danaid-labor,  of  transforming  the 
spook  into  a  non-spook,  the  unreal  into  something  real, 
the  spirit  into  an  entire  and  corporeal  person — with  this 
they  tormented  themselves  to  death.  Behind  the  existing 
world  they  sought  the  *'thing  in  itself/'  the  essence; 
behind  the  thing  they  sought  the  im-thing. 

When  one  looks  to  the  bottom  of  anything,  i.  e.  searches 
out  its  essence,  one  often  discovers  something  quite  other 
than  what  it  seems  to  be ;  honeyed  speech  and  a  lying 
heart;  pompous  words  and  beggardly  thoughts,  etc.  By 
bringing  the  essence  into  prominence  one  degrades  the 
hitherto  misapprehended  appearance  to  a  bare  semblance, 
a  deception.  The  essence  of  the  world,  so  attractive  and 
splendid,  is  for  him  who  looks  to  the  bottom  of  it — 
emptiness;  emptiness  is  =  world's  essence  (world's 
doings).  Now,  he  who  is  religious  does  not  occupy  him- 
self with  the  deceitful  semblance,  with  the  empty  appear- 
ances, but  looks  upon  the  essence,  and  in  the  essence  has 
— 'the  truth. 

The  essences  which  are  deduced  from  some  appear-- 
ances  are  the  evil  essences,  and  conversely  from  others 
the  good.  The  essence  of  human  feeling,  e.  g.  is  love; 
the  essence  of  human  will  is  the  good;  that  of  one's 
thinking,  the  true ;  etc. 

What  at  first  passed  for  existence,  such  as  the  world 
and  its  like,  appears  now  as  bare  semblance,  and  the 
truly  existent  is  much  rather  the  essence,  whose  realm 
is  filled  with  gods,  spirits,  demons,  i.  e.  with  good  or 
bad  essences.  Only  this  inverted  world,  the  world  of 
essences,  truly  exists  now.  The  human  heart  may  be 
loveless,  but  its  essence  exists,  God,  "who  is  love";  hu- 
man thought  may  wander  in  error,  but  its  essence,  truth, 
exists ;  "God  is  truth" — etc. 

To  know  and  acknowledge  essences  alone  and  nothing 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  43 


but  essences,  that  is  religion;  its  realm  is  a  realm  of 
essences,  spooks,  and  ghosts. 

The  longing  to  make  the  spook  comprehensible,  or  to 
realize  nonsense,  has  brought  about  a  corporeal  ghost, 
a  ghost  or  sp'rit  with  a  real  body,  an  embodied  ghost. 
How  the  strongest  and  most  talented  Christians  have  tor- 
tured themselves  to  get  a  conception  of  his  ghoslly  ap- 
parition !  But  there  always  remained  the  contradiction  of 
two  natures,  the  divine  and  human,  i.  e.  the  ghostly  and 
sensual ;  there  remained  the  most  wondrous  spook,  a 
thing  that  was  not  a  thing.  Never  yet  was  a  ghost  more 
soul-torturing,  and  no  shaman,  who  pricks  himself  to 
raving  fury  and  nerve-lacerating  cramps  to  conjure  a 
ghost,  can  endure  such  soul-torment  as  Christians  suf- 
fered from  that  most  incomprehensible  ghost. 

But  through  Christ  the  truth  of  the  matter  had  at 
the  same  time  come  to  light,  that  the  veritable  spirit 
or  ghost  is — man.  The  corporeal  or  embodied  spirit 
is  just  man;  he  himself  is  the  ghastly  being  and  at  the 
same  time  the  being's  appearance  and  existence.  Hence- 
forth man  no  longer,  in  typical  cases,  shudders  at  ghosts 
outside  him,  but  at  himself ;  he  is  terrified  at  himself. 
In  the  depth  of  his  breast  dwells  the  spirit  of  sin;  even 
the  faintest  thought  (and  this  is  itself  a  spirit,  you 
know)  may  be  a  devil,  etc. — The  ghost  has  put  on  a 
body,  God  has  become  man,  but  now  man  is  himself  the 
gruesome  spook  which  he  seeks  to  get  back  of,  to  exor- 
cise, to  fathom,  to  bring  to  reality  and  to  speech ;  man  is — 
spirit.  What  matter  if  the  body  wither,  if  only  the  spirit 
is  saved?  everything  rests  on  the  spirit,  and  the  spirit's  or 
''soul's"  welfare  becomes  the  exclusive  goal.  Man  has 
become  to  himself  a  ghost,  an  uncanny  spook,  to  which 
there  is  even  assigned  a  distinct  seat  in  the  body  (dis- 
pute over  the  seat  of  the  soul,  whether  in  the  head,  etc.). 

You  are  not  to  me,  and  I  am  not  to  you,  a  higher 
essence.  Nevertheless  a  higher  essence  may  be  hidden 
in  each  of  us,  and  call  forth  a  mutual  reverence.  To 
take  at  once  the  most  general,  Man  lives  in  you  and 


44 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


me.  If  I  did  not  see  Man  in  you,  what  occasion  should 
I  have  to  respect  you  ?  To  be  sure,  you  are  not  Man 
and  his  true  and  adequate  form,  but  only  a  mortal  veil 
of  his,  from  which  he  can  withdraw  without  himself 
ceasing;  but  yet  for  the  present  this  general  and  higher 
essence  is  housed  in  you,  and  you  present  before  me 
(because  an  imperishable  spirit  has  in  you  assumed  a 
perishable  body,  so  that  really  your  form  is  only  an  *'as- 
sum.ed"  one)  a  spirit  that  appears,  appears  in  you,  with- 
out being  bound  to  your  body  and  to  this  particular 
mode  of  appearance — therefore  a  spook.  Hence  I  do  not 
regard  you  as  a  higher  essence,  but  only  respect  that 
higher  essence  which  'Svalks"  in  you;  I  ''respect  Man 
in  you."  The  ancients  did  not  observe  anything  of  this 
sort  in  their  slaves,  and  the  higher  essence  "Man"  found 
as  yet  little  response.  To  make  up  for  this,  they  saw  in 
each  other  ghosts  of  another  sort.  The  People  is  a  higher 
essence  than  an  individual,  and,  like  Man  or  the  Spirit 
of  Man,  a  spirit  haunting  the  individual — the  Spirit  of 
the  People.  For  this  reason  they  revered  this  spirit,  and 
only  so  far  as  he  served  this  or  else  a  spirit  related  to  it 
(e.  g,  the  Spirit  of  the  Family,  etc.)  could  the  individual 
appear  significant;  only  for  the  sake  of  the  higher  es- 
sence, the  People,  was  consideration  allowed  to  the  ''mem- 
ber of  the  people."  As  you  are  hallowed  to  us  by  "Man" 
who  haunts  you,  so  at  every  time  men  have  been  hal- 
lowed by  some  higher  essence  or  other,  like  People. 
Family,  and  such.  Only  for  the  sake  of  a  higher  essence 
has  any  one  been  honored  from  of  old,  only  as  a  ghost  has 
he  been  regarded  in  the  light  of  a  hallowed,  i.  e.,  pro- 
tected and  recognized  person.  If  I  cherish  you  because 
I  hold  you  dear,  because  in  you  my  heart  finds  nourish- 
ment, my  need  satisfaction,  then  it  is  not  done  for  the 
sake  of  a  higher  essence  whose  hallowed  body  you  are, 
not  on  account  of  my  beholding  in  you  a  ghost,  i.e.,  an 
appearing  spirit,  but  from  egoistic  pleasure;  you  your- 
self with  your  essence  are  valuable  to  me,  for  your  es- 
sence is  not  a  higher  one,  is  not  higher  and  more  general 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  45 


than  you,  is  unique*  like  you  yourself,  because  it  is 
you. 

But  it  is  not  only  man  that  "haunts'";  so  does  every- 
thing. The  higher  essence,  the  spirit,  that  walks  in 
everything,  is  at  the  same  time  bound  to  nothing,  and 
only — " appears''  in  it.    Ghosts  in  every  corner ! 

Here  would  be  the  place  to  pass  the  haunting  spirits 
in  review,  if  they  were  not  to  come  before  us  again  fur- 
ther on  in  order  to  vanish  before  egoism.  Hence  let  only 
a  few  of  them  be  particularized  by  way  of  example,  in 
order  to  bring  us  at  once  to  our  attitude  toward  them. 

Sacred  above  all,  e,  g,,  is  the  ''holy  Spirit,''  sacred 
the  truth,  sacred  are  right,  law,  a  good  cause,  majesty, 
marriage,  the  common  good,  order,  the  fatherland,  etc. 

Wheels  in  the  Head. 

Man,  your  head  is  haunted ;  you  have  wheels  in  your 
head !  You  imagine  great  things,  and  depict  to  yourselt 
a  whole  world  of  gods  that  has  an  existence  for  you,  a 
spirit-realm  to  which  you  suppose  yourself  to  be  called, 
an  ideal  that  beckons  to  you.    You  have  a  fixed  idea ! 

Do  not  think  that  I  am  jesting  or  speaking  figura- 
tively when  I  regard  those  persons  who  cling  to  thq 
Higher,  and  (because  the  vast  majority  belongs  under 
this  head)  almost  the  whole  world  of  men,  as  veritable 
fools,  fools  in  a  madhouse.  What  it  is,  then,  that  is 
called  a  ''fixed  idea" !  An  idea  that  has  subjected  the 
man  to  itself.  When  you  recognize,  with  regard  to  such 
a  fixed  idea,  that  it  is  a  folly,  you  shut  its  slave  up  in 
an  asylum.  And  is  the  truth  of  the  faith,  say,  which 
we  are  not  to  doubt;  the  majesty  of  (e.  g.)  the  people, 
which  we  are  not  to  strike  at  (he  who  does  is  guilty  of — 
lese-majesty)  ;  virtue,  against  which  the  censor  is  not 
to  let  a  word  pass,  that  morality  may  be  kept  pure ;  etc. — 
are  these  not  "fixed  ideas"  ?   Is  not  all  the  stupid  chatter 


*  [einj:{g] 


46 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


of  (e,  g.)  most  of  our  newspapers  the  babble  of  fools 
f  who  suffer  from  the  fixed  idea  of  morality,  legality, 
Christianity,  etc.,  and  only  seem  to  go  about  free  be- 
cause the  madhouse  in  which  they  walk  takes  in  so  broad 
a  space?  Touch  the  fixed  idea  of  such  a  fool,  and  you 
will  at  once  have  to  guard  your  back  against  the  lunatic's 
stealthy  malice.  For  these  great  lunatics  are  like  the 
little  so-called  lunatics  in  this  point,  too — that  they  assail 
by  stealth  him  who  touches  their  fixed  idea.  They  first 
steal  his  weapon,  steal  free  speech  from  him,  and  then 
they  fall  upon  him  with  their  nails.  Every  day  now  lays 
bare  the  cowardice  and  vindictiveness  of  these  maniacs, 
and  the  stupid  populace  hurrahs  for  their  crazy  meas- 
ures. One  must  read  the  journals  of  this  period,  and 
must  hear  the  Philistines  talk,  to  get  the  horrible  convic- 
tion that  one  is  shut  up  in  a  house  with  fools.  ''Thou 
shalt  not  call  thy  brother  a  fool;  if  thou  dost — etc. 
But  I  do  not  fear  the  curse,  and  I  say,  my  brothers  are 
arch-fools.  Whether  a  poor  fool  of  the  insane  asylum 
is  possessed  by  the  fancy  that  he  is  God  the  Father,  Em- 
peror of  Japan,  the  Holy  Spirit,  etc.,  or  whether  a  citi- 
zen in  comfortable  circumstances  conceives  that  it  is  his 
mission  to  be  a  good  Christian,  a  faithful  Protestant,  a 
loyal  citizen,  a  virtuous  man,  etc. — both  these  are  one 
and  the  same  ''fixed  idea."  He  who  has  never  tried  and 
dared  not  to  be  a  good  Christian,  a  faithful  Protestant, 
a  virtuous  man,  etc.,  is  possessed  and  prepossessed  by 
faith,  virtuousness,  etc.  Just  as  the  schoolmen  philoso- 
phized only  inside  the  belief  of  the  church ;  as  Pope  Ben- 
edict XIV  wrote  fat  books  inside  the  papist  superstition, 
without  ever  throwing  a  doubt  upon  this  belief ;  as 
authors  fill  whole  folios  on  the  State  without  calling  in 
question  the  fixed  idea  of  the  State  itself;  as  our  news- 
papers are  crammed  with  politics  because  they  are  con- 
jured into  the  fancy  that  man  was  created  to  be  a  soon 
politicon — so  also  subjects  vegetate  in  subjection,  virtuous 

*  [gefangen  und  befangen^  literally   ^'imprisoned   and  pre- 
possessed."] 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  47 


people  in  virtue,  liberals  in  humanity,  etc.,  without  ever 
putting  to  these  fixed  ideas  of  theirs  the  searching  knife 
of  criticism.  Undislodgeable,  like  a  madman's  delusion, 
those  thoughts  stand  on  a  firm  footing,  and  he  who  doubts 
them — lays  hands  on  the  sacred!  Yes,  the  ''fixed  idea/' 
that  is  the  truly  sacred ! 

Is  it  perchance  only  people  possessed  by  the  devil  that 
meet  us,  or  do  we  as  often  come  upon  people  possessed 
in  the  contrary  way — possessed  by  "the  good,"  by  virtue, 
morality,  the  law,  or  some  ''principle"  or  other?  Posses- 
sions of  the  devil  are  not  the  only  ones.  God  works  on 
us,  and  the  devil  does;  the  former  "workings  of  grace," 
the  latter  "workings  of  the  the  devil."  Possessed  *  people 
are  set  f  in  their  opinions. 

If  the  word  "possession"  displeases  you,  then  call  it 
prepossession ;  yes,  since  the  spirit  possesses  you,  and  all 
"inspirations"  come  from  it,  call  it — inspiration  and  en- 
thusiasm. I  add  that  complete  enthusiasm — for  we  can- 
not stop  with  the  sluggish  half-way  kind — is  called 
fanaticism. 

It  is  precisely  among  cultured  people  that  fanaticism  is 
at  home ;  for  man  is  cultured  so  far  as  he  takes  an  inter- 
est in  spiritual  things,  and  interest  in  spiritual  things, 
when  it  is  alive,  is  and  must  be  fanaticism;  it  is  a  fanatical 
interest  in  the  sacred  (fanum).  Observe  our  liberals, 
look  into  the  Saechsischen  V aterlandshlaetter ^  hear  what 
Schlosser  says :  %  "Holbach's  company  constituted  a  reg- 
ular plot  against  the  traditional  doctrine  and  the  exist- 
ing system,  and  its  members  were  as  fanatical  on  behalf 
of  their  unbelief  as  monks  and  priests,  Jesuits  and  Piet- 
ists, Methodists,  missionary  and  Bible  societies,  com- 
monly are  for  mechanical  worship  and  orthodoxy." 

Take  notice  how  a  "moral  man"  behaves,  who  to-day 
often  thinks  he  is  through  with  God  and  throws  off 
Christianity  as  a  bvgone  thing.  If  vou  ask  him  whether 
he  has  ever  doubted  that  the  copulation  of  brother  and 


"^[hessessene]  ^[versessen]  X' Achtzehntes  Jahrhundert^*  II,  519. 


48 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


sister  is  incest,  that  monogamy  is  the  truth  of  marriage, 
that  filial  piety  is  a  sacred  duty,  etc.,  then  a  moral  shud- 
der will  come  over  him  at  the  conception  of  one's  being 
allowed  to  touch  his  sister  as  wife  also,  etc.  And  whence 
this  shudder?  Because  he  believes  in  those  moral  com- 
mandments. This  moral  faith  is  deeply  rooted  in  his 
breast.  Much  as  he  rages  against  the  pious  Christians, 
he  himself  has  nevertheless  as  thoroughly  remained  a 
Christian — to  wit,  a  moral  Christian.  In  the  form  of 
morality  Christianity  holds  him  a  prisoner,  and  a  prisoner 
under  faith.  Monogamy  is  to  be  something  sacred,  and 
he  who  may  live  in  bigamy  is  punished  as  a  criminal; 
he  who  commits  incest  suffers  as  a  criminal.  Those  who 
are  always  crying  that  religion  is  not  to  be  regarded  in 
the  State,  and  the  Jew  is  to  be  a  citizen  equally  with  the 
Christian,  show  themselves  in  accord  with  this.  Is  not 
this  of  incest  and  monogamy  a  dogma  of  faith?  Touch 
it,  and  you  will  learn  by  experience  how  this  moral  man 
is  a  hero  of  faith  too,  not  less  than  Krummacher,  not  less 
than  Philip  II.  These  fight  for  the  faith  of  the  Church, 
he  for  the  faith  of  the  State,  or  the  moral  laws  of  the 
State ;  for  articles  of  faith,  both  condemn  him  who  acts 
otherwise  than  their  faith  will  allow.  The  brand  of 
*'crime"  is  stamped  upon  him,  and  he  may  languish  in 
reformatories,  in  jails.  Moral  faith  is  as  fanatical  as 
religious  faith !  They  call  that  ^'liberty  of  faith"  then, 
when  brother  and  sister,  on  account  of  a  relation  that  they 
should  have  settled  with  their  "conscience,"  are  thrown 
into  prison.  *'But  they  set  a  pernicious  example."  Yes, 
indeed :  others  might  have  taken  the  notion  that  the  State 
had  no  business  to  meddle  with  their  relation,  and  there- 
upon "purity  of  morals"  would  go  to  ruin.  So  then  the 
religious  heroes  of  faith  are  zealous  for  the  "sacred  God," 
the  moral  ones  for  the  "sacred  good." 

Those  who  are  zealous  for  something  sacred  often  look 
very  little  like  each  other.  How  the  strictly  orthodox  or 
old-style  believers  differ  from  the  fighters  for  "truth, 
light,  and  justice,"  from  the  Philalethes,  the  Friends  of 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  49 


Light,  the  RationaHsts,  etc.  And  yet,  how  utterly  un-  ir 
essential  is  this  difference  !  If  one  buffets  single  traditional 
truths  (e,  g.  miracles,  unlimited  power  of  princes,  etc.), 
then  the  rationalists  buffet  them  too,  and  onl}  the  old- 
style  believers  wail.  But,  if  one  buffets  truth  itself,  he 
immediately  has  both,  as  believers,  for  opponents.  So 
with  moralities;  the  strict  believers  are  relentless,  the 
clearer  heads  are  more  tolerant.  But  he  who  attacks 
morality  itself  gets  both  to  deal  with.  "Truth,  morality, 
justice,  light,  etc.,  are  to  be  and  remain  "sacred."  What 
any  one  finds  to  censure  in  Christianity  is  simply  sup- 
posed to  be  "unchristian"  according  to  the  view  of  these 
rationalists ;  but  Christianity  must  remain  a  "fixture,"  to 
buffet  it  is  outrageous,  "an  outrage."  To  be  sure,  the 
heretic  against  pure  faith  no  longer  exposes  himself  to 
the  earlier  fury  of  persecution,  but  so  much  the  more 
does  it  now  fall  upon  the  heretic  against  pure  morals. 

Piety  has  for  a  century  received  so  many  blows,  and 
had  to  hear  its  superhuman  essence  reviled  as  an  "in- 
human" one  so  often,  that  one  cannot  feel  tempted  to 
draw  the  sword  against  it  again.  And  yet  it  has  almost 
always  been  only  moral  opponents  that  have  appeared  in 
the  arena,  to  assail  the  supreme  essence  in  favor  of — 
another  supreme  essence.  So  Proudhon,  unabashed, 
says  :*  "Man  is  destined  «to  live  without  religion,  but  the 
moral  law  is  eternal  and  absolute.  Who  would  dare  to-day 
to  attack  morality?"  Moral  people  skimmed  off  the  best 
fat  from  religion,  ate  it  themselves,  and  are  now  having  a 
tough  job  to  get  rid  of  the  resulting  scrofula.  If,  there- 
fore, we  point  out  that  religion  has  not  by  any  means 
been  hurt  in  its  inmost  part  so  long  as  people  reproach 
it  only  with  its  superhuman  essence,  and  that  it  takes  its 
final  appeal  to  the  "spirit"  alone  (for  God  is  spirit),  then 
we  have  sufficiently  indicated  its  final  accord  with  moral- 
ity, and  can  leave  its  stubborn  conflict  with  the  latter 


*  '*De  la  Creation  de  VOrdre''  etc.,  p.  36. 


50 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


lying  behind  us.  It  is  a  question  of  a  supreme  essence 
with  both,  and  whether  this  is  a  superhuman  or  a  human 
one  can  make  (since  it  is  in  any  case  an  essence  over  me, 
a  super-mine  one,  so  to  speak)  but  Httle  difference  to  me. 
In  the  end  the  relation  to  the  human  essence,  or  to  ''Man," 
as  soon  as  ever  it  has  shed  the  snake-skin  of  the  old 
religion,  will  yet  wear  a  religious  snake-skin  again. 

So  Feuerbach  instructs  us  that,  ''if  one  only  inverts 
fpeculative  philosophy,  i.  e.  always  makes  the  predicate 
ihe  subject,  and  so  makes  the  subject  the  object  and  prin- 
ciple, one  has  the  undraped  truth,  pure  and  clean.''"^ 
Herewith,  to  be  sure,  we  lose  the  narrow  religious  stand- 
point, lose  the  God,  who  from  this  standpoint  is  subject; 
but  we  take  in  exchange  for  it  the  other  side  of  the  re- 
ligious standpoint,  the  moral  standpoint.  E.  g.,  we  no 
longer  say  "God  is  love/'  but  "Love  is  divine.''  If  we 
further  put  in  place  of  the  predicate  "divine"  the  equiv- 
alent "sacred,"  then,  as  far  as  concerns  the  sense,  all  the 
old  comes  back  again.  According  to  this,  love  is  to  be  the 
good  in  man,  his  divineness,  that  which  does  him  honor, 
his  true  humanity  (it  "makes  him  Man  for  the  first  time," 
makes  for  the  first  time  a  man  out  of  him).  So  then  it 
would  be  more  accurately  worded  thus :  Love  is  what  is 
human  in  man,  and  what  is  inhuman  is  the  loveless  egoist. 
But  precisely  all  that  which  Christianity  and  with  it 
speculative  philosophy  (i.  e.  theology)  offers  as  the  good 
the  absolute,  is  to  self-ownership  simply  not  the  good 

or,  what  means  the  same,  it  is  only  the  good).  Conse- 
quently, by  the  transformation  of  the  predicate  into  the 
subject,  the  Christian  essence  (and  it  is  the  predicate  that 
contains  the  essence,  you  know)  would  only  be  fixed  yet 
more  oppressively.  God  and  the  divine  would  entwine 
themselves  all  the  more  inextricably  with  me.  To  expel 
God  from  his  heaven  and  to  rob  him  of  his  ''transcend- 
ence'' cannot  yet  support  a  claim  of  complete  victory,  if 
therein  he  is  only  chased  into  the  human  breast  and  gifted 


*  ''Anekdota/'  II,  64. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  51 


with  indelible  immanence.  Now  they  say,  ''The  divine 
is  the  truly  human!" 

The  same  people  who  oppose  Christianity  as  the  basis 
of  the  State,  i.  e.  oppose  the  so-called  Christian  State,  do 
not  tire  of  repeating  that  morality  is  "the  fundamental 
pillar  of  social  life  and  of  the  State/'  As  if  the  dominion 
of  morality  were  not  a  complete  dominion  of  the  sacred, 
a  ''hierarchy." 

So  we  may  here  mention  by  the  way  that  rationalist 
movement  which,  after  theologians  had  long  insisted  that 
only  faith  was  capable  of  grasping  religious  truths,  that 
only  to  believers  did  God  reveal  himself,  etc.,  and  that 
therefore  only  the  heart,  the  feelings,  the  believing  fancy 
was  religious,  broke  out  with  the  assertion  that  the 
"natural  understanding,"  human  reason,  was  also  capable 
of  discerning  God.  What  does  that  mean  but  that  the 
reason  laid  claim  to  be  the  same  visionary  as  the  fancy?* 
In  this  sense  Reimarus  wrote  his  "Most  Notable  Truths 
of  Natural  Religion."  It  had  to  come  to  this — that  the 
whole  man  with  all  his  faculties  was  found  to  be  religions; 
heart  and  affections,  understanding  and  reason,  feeling, 
knowledge,  and  will — in  short,  everything  in  man — ap- 
peared religious.  Hegel  has  shown  that  even  philosophy 
is  religious.  And  what  is  not  called  religion  to-day  ?  The 
"religion  of  love,"  the  "religion  of  freedom,"  "political 
religion" — in  short,  every  enthusiasm.  So  it  is,  too,  in 
fact. 

To  this  day  we  use  the  Romance  word  "religion,"  which 
expresses  the  concept  of  a  condition  of  being  bound.  To 
be  sure,  we  remain  bound,  so  far  as  religion  takes  pos- 
I  session  of  our  inward  parts ;  but  is  the  mind  also  bound  ? 
\  On  the  contrary,  that  is  free,  is  sole  lord,  is  not  our  mind, 
[  but  absolute.    Therefore  the  correct  affirmative  transla- 
tion of  the  word  religion  would  be  ''freedom  of  mind" ! 
In  whomsoever  the  mind  is  free,  he  is  religious  in  just 
the  same  way  as  he  in  whom  the  senses  have  free  course  is 


*  [dieselbe  Phuntastin  wie  die  Phantasie^ 


■52 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


called  a  sensual  man.  The  mind  binds  the  former,  the 
desires  the  latter.  Religion,  therefore,  is  boundness  or 
religio  with  reference  to  me — I  am  bound ;  it  is  freedom 
with  reference  to  the  mind — the  mind  is  free,  or  has  free- 
dom of  mind.  Many  know  from  experience  how  hard  it 
is  on  us  when  the  desires  run  away  with  us,  free  and 
unbridled;  but  that  the  free  mind,  splendid  intellectuality, 
enthusiasm  for  intellectual  interests,  or  however  this  jewel 
may  in  the  most  various  phrase  be  named,  bring  us  into 
yet  more  grievous  straits  than  even  the  wildest  impro- 
priety, people  will  not  perceive ;  nor  can  they  perceive  it 
without  being  consciously  egoists. 

Reimarus,  and  all  who  have  shown  that  our  reason, 
our  hearts,  etc.,  also  lead  to  God,  have  therewithal  shown 
that  we  are  possessed  through  and  through.  To  be  sure, 
they  vexed  the  theologians,  from  whom  they  took  away  | 
the  prerogative  of  religious  exaltation ;  but  for  religion,  ! 
for  freedom  of  mind,  they  thereby  only  conquered  yet 
more  ground.  For,  when  the  mind  is  no  longer  limited 
to  feeling  or  faith,  but  also,  as  understanding,  reason,  and 
thought  in  general,  belongs  to  itself  the  mind — when, 
therefore,  it  may  take  part  in  the  spiritual"^'  and  heavenly 
truths  in  the  form  of  understanding,  etc.,  as  well 
as  in  its  other  forms — then  the  whole  mind  is  occu- 
pied only  with  spiritual  things,  i.  ^.  with  itself,  and. 
is  therefore  free.  Now  we  are  so  through-and-through 
religious  that  ''jurors,"  i.  e,  ''sworn  men,"  condemn  us  to 
death,  and  every  policeman,  as  a  good  Christian,  takes  us 
to  the  lock-up  by  virtue  of  an  "oath  of  ofifice/' 

Morality  could  not  come  into  opposition  with  piety  till 
after  the  time  when  in  general  the  boisterous  hate  of 
everything  that  looked  like  an  "order"  (decrees,  com- 
mandments, etc.)  spoke  out  in  revolt,  and  the  personal 
"absolute  lord"  was  scoffed  at  and  persecuted;  conse- 
quently it  could  arrive  at  independence  only  through 


*  [The  same  word  as  "intellectual."  as  "mind"  and  "spirit''  are 
the  same.] 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  53 


liberalism,  whose  first  form  acquired  significance  in  the 
world's  history  as  ^'citizenship/'  and  weakened  the 
specifically  religious  powers  (see  ''Liberalism''  below). 
For,  when  morality  not  merely  goes  alongside  of  piety, 
but  stands  on  feet  of  its  own,  then  its  principle  lies  no 
longer  in  the  divine  commandments,  but  in  the  law  of 
reason,  from  which  the  commandments,  so  far  as  they 
are  still  to  remain  valid,  must  first  await  justification  for 
their  validity.  In  the  law  of  reason  man  determines  him- 
self out  of  himself,  for  "Man"  is  rational,  and  out  of  the 
"essence  of  Man"  those  laws  follow  of  necessity.  Piety 
and  morality  part  company  in  this — that  the  former 
makes  God  the  lawgiver,  the  latter  Man. 

From  a  certain  standpoint  of  morality  people  reason 
about  as  follows :  Either  man  is  led  by  his  sensuality,  and 
is,  following  it,  immoral,  or  he  is  led  by  the  good,  which, 
taken  up  into  the  will,  is  called  moral  sentiment  (senti- 
ment and  prepossession  in  favor  of  the  good)  ;  then  he 
shows  himself  moral.  From  this  point  of  view  how,  e.  g., 
can  Sand's  act  against  Kotzebue  be  called  immoral? 
What  is  commonly  understood  by  unselfish  it  certainly 
was,  in  the  same  measure  as  (among  other  things)  St. 
Crispin's  thieveries  in  favor  of  the  poor.  "He  should  not 
have  murdered,  for  it  stands  written.  Thou  shalt  not 
murder!"  Then  to  serve  the  good,  the  welfare  of  the 
people,  as  Sand  at  least  intended,  or  the  welfare  of  the 
poor,  like  Crispin — is  moral ;  but  murder  and  theft  are 
immoral ;  the  purpose  moral,  the  means  immoral.  Why  ? 
"Because  murder,  assassination,  is  something  absolutely 
bad."  When  the  Guerrillas  enticed  the  enemies  of  the 
country  into  ravines  and  shot  them  down  unseen  from 
the  bushes,  do  you  suppose  that  was  not  assassination? 
According  to  the  principle  of  morality,  which  commands 
us  to  serve  the  good,  you  could  really  ask  only  whether 
murder  could  never  in  any  case  be  a  realization  of  the 
good,  and  would  have  to  endorse  that  murder  which 
realized  the  good.  You  cannot  condemn  Sand's  deed  at 
all;  it  was  moral,  because  in  the  service  of  the  good, 


54 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


because  unselfish;  it  was  an  act  of  punishment,  which 
the  individual  inflicted,  an — execution  inflicted  at  the  risk 
of  the  executioner's  life.  What  else  had  his  scheme 
been,  after  all,  but  that  he  wanted  to  suppress  writings 
by  brute  force?  Are  you  not  acquainted  with  the  same 
procedure  as  a  '^legal"  and  sanctioned  one?  And  what 
can  be  objected  against  it  from  your  principle  of 
morality? — ''But  it  was  an  illegal  execution."  So  the 
immoral  thing  in  it  was  the  illegality,  the  disobedience  to  i 
law?  Then  you  admit  that  the  good  is  nothing  else  , 
than — law,  morality  nothing  else  than  loyalty.  And  to 
this  externality  of  ''loyalty''  your  morality  must  sink,  to 
this  righteousness  of  works  in  the  fulfilment  of  the  law, 
only  that  the  latter  is  at  once  more  tyrannical  and  more  re- 
volting than  the  old-time  righteousness  of  works.  For 
in  the  latter  only  the  act  is  needed,  but  you  require  the 
disposition  too;  one  must  carry  in  himself  the  law,  the 
statute;  and  he  who  is  most  legally  disposed  is  the  most 
moral.  Even  the  last  vestige  of  cheerfulness  in  Catholic 
life  must  perish  in  this  Protestant  legality.  Here  at  last 
the  domination  of  the  law  is  for  the  first  time  complete. 
"Not  I  live,  but  the  law  lives  in  me.''  Thus  I  have  really 
come  so  far  as  to  be  only  the  '"vessel  of  its  glory." 
"Every  Prussian  carries  his  gendarme  in  his  breast,"  says 
a  high  Prussian  officer. 

Why  do  certain  opposition  parties  fail  to  flourish? 
Solely  for  the  reason  that  they  refuse  to  forsake  the  path 
of  morality  or  legality.  Hence  the  measureless  hypocrisy 
of  devotion,  love,  etc.,  from  whose  repulsiveness  one  may 
get  the  most  thorough  nausea  at  this  rotten  and  hypo- 
critical relation  of  a  "lawful  opposition." — In  the  moral 
relation  of  love  and  fidelity  a  divided  or  opposed  will 
cannot  have  place;  the  beautiful  relation  is  disturbed  if 
the  one  wills  this  and  the  other  the  reverse.  But  now, 
according  to  the  practice  hitherto  and  the  old  prejudice 
of  the  opposition,  the  moral  relation  is  to  be  preserved 
above  all.  What  is  then  left  to  the  opposition  ?  Perhaps 
the  will  to  have  a  liberty,  if  the  beloved  one  sees  fit  to 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  55 


deny  it?  Not  a  bit!  It  may  not  will  to  have  the  free- 
dom, it  can  only  wish  for  it,  ''petition''  for  it,  lisp  a 
'Tlease,  please What  would  come  of  it,  if  the  opposi- 
ton  really  willed^  willed  with  the  full  energy  of  the  will  ? 
No,  it  must  renounce  will  in  order  to  live  to  love,  re- 
nounce liberty — for  love  of  morality.  It  may  never 
*'claim  as  a  right"  what  it  is  permitted  only  to  "beg  as 
a  favor/'  Love,  devotion,  etc.,  demand  with  undeviating 
definiteness  that  there  be  only  one  will  to  which  the 
others  devote  themselves,  which  they  serve,  follow,  love. 
Whether  this  will  is  regarded  as  reasonable  or  as  un- 
reasonable, in  both  cases  one  acts  morally  when  one 
follows  it,  and  immorally  when  one  breaks  away  from 
it.  The  will  that  commands  the  censorship  seems  to 
many  unreasonable ;  but  he  who  in  a  land  of  censorship 
evades  the  censoring  of  his  book  acts  immorally,  and  he 
who  submits  it  to  the  censorship  acts  morally.  If  some 
one  let  his  moral  judgment  go,  and  set  up  e.  g.  a  secret 
press,  one  would  have  to  call  him  immoral,  and  imprudent 
into  the  bargain  if  he  let  himself  be  caught;  but  will 
such  a  man  lay  claim  to  a  value  in  the  eyes  of  the 
''moral"?  Perhaps! — That  is,  if  he  fancied  he  was 
serving  a  ^'higher  morality." 

The  web  of  the  hypocrisy  of  to-day  hangs  on  the 
frontiers  of  two  domains,  between  which  our  time 
swings  back  and  forth,  attaching  its  fine  threads  of  de- 
ception and  self-deception.  No  longer  vigorous  enough 
to  serve  morality  without  doubt  or  weakening,  not  yet 
reckless  enough  to  live  wholly  to  egoism,  it  trembles  now 
toward  the  one  and  now  toward  the  other  in  the  spider- 
web  of  hypocrisy,  and,  crippled  by  the  curse  of  halfness, 
catches  only  miserable,  stupid  flies.  If  one  has  once 
dared  to  make  a  "free"  motion,  immediately  one  waters 
it  again  with  assurances  of  love,  and — shams  resignation; 
if,  on  the  other  side,  they  have  had  the  face  to  reject  the 
free  motion  with  moral  appeals  to  confidence,  etc.,  im- 
mediately the  moral  courage  also  sinks,  and  they  assure 
one  how  they  hear  the  free  words  with  special  pleasure. 


56"  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


etc.;  they — sham  approval.  In  short,  people  would  like 
to  have  the  one,  but  not  go  without  the  other ;  they  would 
like  to  have  a  free  will,  but  not  for  their  lives  lack  the 
moral  will.  Just  come  in  contact  with  a  servile  loyalist, 
you  Liberals.  You  will  sweeten  every  word  of  freedom 
with  a  look  of  the  most  loyal  confidence,  and  he  will 
clothe  his  servilism  in  the  most  flattering  phrases  of  - 
freedom.  Then  you  go  apart,  and  he,  like  you,  thinks 
*'I  know  you,  fox!"  He  scents  the  devil  in  you  as  much 
as  you  do  the  dark  old  Lord  God  in  him. 

A  Nero  is  a  ''bad"  man  only  in  the  eyes  of  the  . 
*'good" ;  in  mine  he  is  nothing  but  a  possessed  man,  as 
are  the  good  too.  The  good  see  in  him  an  archvillain, 
and  relegate  him  to  hell.  Why  did  nothing  hinder  him 
in  his  arbitrary  course  ?  Why  did  people  put  up  with  so 
much?  Do  you  suppose  the  tame  Romans,  who  let  all 
their  will  be  bound  by  such  a  tyrant,  were  a  hair  the 
better?  In  old  Rome  they  would  have  put  him  to  death 
instantly,  would  never  have  been  his  slaves.  But  the 
contemporary  "good"  among  the  Romans  opposed  to 
him  only  moral  demands,  not  their  will;  they  sighed  that 
their  emperor  did  not  do  homage  to  morality,  like  them ; 
they  themselves  remained  ''moral  subjects,"  till  at  last 
one  found  courage  to  give  up  "moral,  obedient  subjec- 
tion." And  then  the  same  "good  Romans"  who,  as 
"obedient  subjects,"  had  borne  all  the  ignominy  of 
having  no  will,  hurrahed  over  the  nefarious,  immoral 
act  of  the  rebel.  Where  then  in  the  "good"  was  the 
courage  for  the  revolution,  that  courage  which  they  now 
praised,  after  another  had  mustered  it  up?  The  good 
could  not  have  this  courage,  for  a  revolution,  and  an 
insurrection  into  the  bargain,  is  always  something 
"immoral,"  which  one  can  resolve  upon  only  when  one 
ceases  to  be  "good"  and  becomes  either  "bad"  or^ — 
neither  of  the'two.  Nero  was  no  viler  than  his  time,  in 
which  one  could  only  be  one  of  the  two,  good  or  bad. 
The  judgment  of  his  time  on  him  had  to  be  that  he  was 
bad,  and  this  in  the  highest  degree :  not  a  milksop,  but  an 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  57 


arch-scoundrel  All  moral  people  can  pronounce  only  this 
judgment  on  him.  Rascals  such  as  he  was  are  still  living 
here  and  there  to-day  (see  e.  g,  the  Memoirs  of  Ritter 
von  Lang)  in  the  midst  of  the  moral.  It  is  not  convenient 
to  live  among  them  certainly,  as  one  is  not  sure  of  his 
life  for  a  moment;  but  can  you  say  that  it  is  more  con- 
venient to  live  among  the  motal?  One  is  just  as  little 
sure  of  his  life  there,  only  that  one  *is  hanged  "in  the 
way  of  justice/'  but  least  of  all  is  one  sure«of  his  honor, 
and  the  national  cockade  is  gone  before  you  -can  say 
Jack  Robinson.  The  hard  fist  of  morality  treats  the  noble 
nature  of  egoism  altogether  without  compassion. 

''But  surely  one  cannot  put  a  rascal  and  an  honest 
man  on  the  same  level !"  Now,  no  human  being  does 
that  oftener  than  you  judges  of  morals; 'yes,  still  more 
than  that,  you  imprison  as  a  criminal  an  honest  man 
who  speaks  openly  against  the  existing  constitution, 
against  the  hallowed  institutions,  etc.,  and  you  entrust 
portfolios  and  still  more  important  things  to  a  crafty 
rascal.  So  in  praxi  you  have  nothing  to  reproach  me 
with.  "But  in  theory!''  Now  there  I  do  put  both  on  the 
same  level,  as  two  opposite  poles — to  with,  both  on  the 
level  of  the  moral  law.  Both  have  meaning  only  in  the 
"moral"  world,  just  as  in  the  pre-Christian  time  a  Jew 
who  kept  the  law  and  one  who  broke  it  had  meaning 
and  signifiance  only  in  respect  to  the  Jewish  law;  be- 
fore Jesus  Christ,  on  the  contrary,  the  Pharisee  was  no 
more  than  the  "sinner  and  publican."  So  before  self- 
ownership  the  moral  Pharisee  amounts  to  as  much  as 
the  immortal  sinner. 

Nero  became  very  inconvenient  by  his  possessedness. 
But  a  self -owning  man  would  not  sillily  oppose  to  him 
the  "sacred,"  and  whine  if  the  tyrant  does  not  regard 
the  sacred;  he  would  oppose  to  him  his  will.  How 
often  the  sacredness  of  the  inalienable  rights  of  man 
has  been  held  up  to  their  foes,  and  some  liberty  or 
or  other  shown  and  demonstrated  to  be  a  "sacred  right 
of  man"!     Those  who  do  that  deserve  to  be  laughed 


58 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


out  of  court — as  they  actually  are — were  it  not  that 
in  truth  they  do,  even  though  unconsciously,  take  the 
road  that  leads  to  the  goal.  They  have  a  presentiment 
that,  if  only  the  majority  is  once  won  for  that  liberty, 
it  will  also  will  the  liberty,  and  will  then  take  what  it 
zuill  have.  The  sacredness  of  the  liberty,  and  all  pos- 
sible proofs  of  this  sacredness,  will  never  procure  it; 
lamenting  and  petitioning  only  shows  beggars. 

The  moral  man  is  necessarily  narrow  in  that  he 
knows  no  other  enemy  than  the  ''immoral''  man.  ''He 
who  is  not  moral  is  immoral!"  and  accordingly  repro- 
bate, despicable,  etc.  Therefore  the  moral  man  can 
never  comprehend  the  egoist.  Is  not  unwedded  co- 
habitation an  immorality?  The  moral  man  may  turn 
as  he  pleases,  he  will  have  to  stand  by  this  verdict; 
Emilia  Galotti  gave  up  her  life  for  this  moral  truth. 
And  it  is  true,  it  is  an  immorality.  A  virtuous  girl  may 
become  an  old  maid :  -a  virtuous  man  may  pass  the  time 
in  fighting  his  natural  impulses  till  he  has  perhaps  dulled 
them,  he  may  castrate  himself  for  the  sake  of  virtue 
as  St.  Origen  did  for  the  sake  of  heaven:  he  thereby 
honors  sacred  wedlock,  sacred  chastity,  as  inviolable ; 
he  is — moral.  Unchastity  can  never  become  a  moral 
act.  However  indulgently  the  moral  man  may  judge  and 
excuse  him  who  committed  it,  it  remains  a  transgres- 
sion, a  sin  against  a  moral  commandment;  there  clings 
to  it  an  indelible  stain.  As  chastity  once  belonged  to 
the  monastic  vow,  so  it  does  to  moral  conduct.  Chastity 
is  a — good. — For  the  egoist,  on  the  contrary,  even  chastity 
is  not  a  good  without  which  he  could  not  get  along;  he 
cares  nothing  at  all  about  it.  AMiat  now  follows  from 
this  for  the  judgment  of  the  moral  man?  This:  that 
he  throws  the  egoist  into  the  only  class  of  men  that 
he  knows  besides  moral  men.  into  that  of  the — immoral. 
He  cannot  do  otherwise  :  he  must  find  the  egoist  im- 
moral in  evervthing  in  which  the  egoist  disregards 
moralit}'.  If  he  did  not  find  him  so,  then  he  would  al- 
ready have  become  an  apostate  from  morality  without 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  59 


confessing  it  to  himself,  he  would  already  no  longer  be 
a  truly  moral  man.  One  should  not  let  himself  be  led 
astray  by  such  phenomena,  which  at  the  present  day 
are  certainly  no  longer  to  be  classed  as  rare,  but  should 
reflect  that  he  who  yields  any  point  of  morality  can  as 
little  be  counted  among  the  truly  moral  as  Lessing  was 
a  pious  Christian  when,  in  the  well-known  parable,  he 
compared  the  Christian  religion,  as  well  as  the  Moham- 
medan and  Jewish,  to  a  ''counterfeiting  ring/'  Often 
people  are  already  further  than  they  venture  to  confess 
to  themselves.  For  Socrates,  because  in  culture  he  stood 
on  the  level  of  morality,  it  would  have  been  an  immor- 
ality if  he  had  been  willing  to  follow  Crito's  seductive 
incitement  and  escape  from  the  dungeon ;  to  remain  was 
the  only  moral  thing.  But  it  was  solely  because  Socrates 
was — a  moral  man  The  "unprincipled,  sacrilegious"  men 
of  the  Revolution,  on  the  contrary,  had  sworn  fidelity  to 
Louis  XVI,  and  decreed  his  deposition,  yes,  his  death; 
but  the  act  was  an  immoral  one,  at  which  moral  per- 
sons will  be  horrified  to  all  eternity. 

Yet  all  this  applies,  more  or  less,  only  to  *'civic  mor- 
ality,'' on  which  the  freer  look  down  with  contempt. 
For  it  (like  civism,  its  native  ground  in  general)  is  still 
too  little  removed  and  free  from  the  religious  heaven 
not  to  transplant  the  latter's  laws  without  criticism  or 
further  consideration  to  its  domain  instead  of  produc- 
ing independent  doctrines  of  its  own.  Morality  cuts  a 
quite  different  figure  when  it  arrives  at  the  consciousness 
of  its  dignity,  and  raises  its  principle,  the  essence  of 
man,  or  ''Man,"  to  be  the  only  regulative  power.  Those 
who  have  worked  their  way  through  to  such  a  decided 
consciousness  break  entirely  with  religion,  whose  God 
no  longer  finds  any  place  alongside  their  "Man,"  and, 
as  they  (see  below)  themselves  scuttle  the  ship  of  State, 
so  too  they  crumble  away  that  "morality"  which  flourish- 
es only  in  the  State,  and  logically  have  no  right  to  use 
even  its  name  any  further.    For  what  this  "critical" 


60 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


party  calls  morality  is  very  positively  distinguished  from 
the  so-called  ''civic  or  political  morality/'  and  must  ap- 
pear to  the  citizen  like  an  ''insensate  and  unbridled  lib- 
erty." But  at  bottom  it  has  only  the  advantage  of 
the  ''purity  of  the  principle/'  which,  freed  from  its  de- 
filement with  the  religious,  has  now  reached  universal 
power  in  its  clarified  definiteness  as  "humanity."  There- 
fore one  should  not  wonder  that  the  name  ''morality" 
is  retained  along  with  others,  like  freedom,  benevol- 
ence, self-consicousness,  etc.,  and  is  only  garnished  now 
and  then  with  the  addition,  a  "free"  moralitv^ — just  as, 
though  the  civic  State  is  abused,  yet  the  State  is  to  rise 
again  as  a  "free  State,"  or,  if  not  even  so,  yet  as  a  "free 
society." 

Because  this  morality  completed  into  humanity  has 
fully  settled  its  accounts  with  the  religion  out  of  which 
it  historically  came  forth,  nothing  hinders  it  from  be- 
coming a  religion  on  its  own  account.  For  a  distinc- 
tion prevails  between  religion  and  morality  only  so 
long  as  our  dealings  with  the  w^orld  of  men  are  regu- 
lated and  hallowed  by  our  relation  to  a  superhuman 
being  or  so  long  as  our  doings  is  a  doing  "for  God's 
sake."  If,  on  the  other  hand,  it  comes  to  the  point  that 
*'man  is  to  man  the  supreme  being,"  then  that  distinction 
vanishes,  and  morality,  being  removed  from  its  subor- 
dinate position,  is  completed  into — religion.  For  then 
the  higher  being  who  had  hitherto  been  subordinated 
to  the  highest,  Man,  has  ascended  to  absolute  height,  and 
we  are  related  to  him  as  one  is  related  to  the  highest 
being,  i,  e.  religiously.  Morality  and  piety  are  now  as 
synonymous  as  in  the  beginning  of  Christianity,  and  it 
is  only  because  the  supreme  being  has  come  to  be  a  dif- 
ferent one  that  a  holy  walk  is  no  longer  called  a  "holy" 
one,  but  a  "human"  one.  If  morality  has  conquered, 
then  a  complete — change  of  masters  has  taken  place. 

After  the  annihilation  of  faith  Feuerbach  thinks  to 
put  in  to  the  supposedly  safe  harbor  of  love.  "The  first 
and  highest  law  must  be  the  love  of  man  to  man.  Homo 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  61 


homini  Deus  est — this  is  the  supreme  practical  maximum, 
this  the  turning  point  of  the  world's  history/'"^  But, 
properly  speaking,  only  the  god  is  changed — the  deus; 
love  has  remained:  there  love  to  the  superhuman  God, 
here  love  to  the  human  God,  to  homo  as  Deus.  There- 
fore man  is  to  me — sacred.  And  everything  "truly  hu- 
man'' is  to  me — sacred!  '^Marriage  is  sacred  of  itself. 
And  so  it  is  with  all  moral  relations.  Friendship  is  and 
must  be  sacred- ior  you,  and  property,  and  marriage,  and 
the  good  of  every  man,  but  sacred  in  and  of  itself ."f 
Haven't  we  the  priest  again  there  ?  Who  is  his  God  ?  Man. 
with  a  great  M  !  What  is  the  divine  ?  The  human !  Then 
the  predicate  has  indeed  only  been  changed  into  the  sub- 
ject, and  instead  of  the  sentence  ''God  is  love,"  they  say 
''love  is  divine"  ;  instead  of  "God  has  become  man,"  "Man 
has  become  God,"  etc.  It  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  a 
new — religion,  "All  moral  relations  are  ethical,  are  culti- 
vated with  a  moral  mind,  only  where  of  themselves  (with- 
out religious  consecration  by  the  priest's  blessing)  they 
are  counted  religious!'  Feuerbach's  proposition,  "The- 
ology in  anthropology,"  means  only  "religion  must  be 
ethics,  ethics  alone  is  religion." 

Altogether  Feuerbach  accomplishes  only  a  transposi- 
tion of  subject  and  predicate,  a  giving  of  preference  to- 
the  latter.  But,  since  he  himself  says,  "Lfove  is  not  (and 
has  never  been  considered  by  men)  sacred  through  be- 
ing a  predicate  of  God,  but  it  is  a  predicate  of  God  be- 
cause it  is  divine  in  and  of  itself,"  he  might  judge  that 
the  fight  against  the  predicates  themselves,  against  love 
and  all  sanctities,  must  be  commenced.  How  could  he 
hope  to  turn  men  away  from  God  when  Tie  left  them  the 
divine?  And  if,  as  Feuerbach  says,  God  himself  has 
never  been  the  main  thing  to  them,  but  only  his  pre- 
dicates, then  he  might  have  gone  on  leaving  them  the 
tinsel  longer  yet,  since  the  doll,  the  real  kernel,  was  left 
at  any  rate.    He  recognizes,  too,  that  with  him  it  is 


"Essence  of  Giristianity,''  second  edition,  p.  402 


62  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


"'only  a  matter  of  annihilating  an  illusion";*  he  thinks, 
however,  that  the  effect  of  the  illusion  on  men  is  "down- 
right ruinous,  since  even  love,  in  itself  the  truest,  most 
inward  sentiment,  becomes  an  obscure,  illusory  one 
through  religiousness,  since  religious  love  loves  manf 
only  for  God's  sake,  therefore  loves  man  only  apparently, 
but  in  truth  God  only."  Is  this  different  with  moral  love? 
Does  it  love  the  man,  this  man  for  this  man's  sake,  or 
for  morality's  sake,  for  Mans  sake,  and  so — for  homo 
homini  Deus — for  God's  sake? 

The  wheels  in  the  head  have  a  number  of  other  for- 
mal aspects,  some  of  which  it  may  be  useful  to  indicate 
here. 

Thus  self-renunciation  is  common  to  the  holy  with 
the  unholy,  to  the  pure  and  the  impure.  The  impure 
man  renounces  all  ''better  feelings,"  all  shame,  even 
natural  timidity,  and  follows  only  the  appetite  that  rules 
him.  The  pure  man  renounces  his  natural  relation  to 
the  world  (''renounces  the  world")  and  follows  only  the 
"desire"  which  rules  him.  Driven  by  the  thirst  for 
money,  the  avaricious  man  renounces  all  admonitions  of 
conscience,  all  feeling  of  honor,  all  gentleness  and  all  com- 
passion; he  puts  all  considerations  out  of  sight;  the  ap- 
petite drags  him  along.  The  holy  man  behaves  similarly. 
He  makes  himself  the  "laughing-stock  of  the  world,"  is^ 
hard-hearted  and  "strictly  just";  for  the  desire  drags 
him  along.  As  the  unholy  man  renounces  himself  before 
Mammon,  so  the  holy  man  renounces  himself  before  God 
and  the  divine  laws.  We  are  now  living  in  a  time  when 
the  shamlessness  of  the  holy  is  every  day  more  and  more 
felt  and  'uncovered,  whereby  it  is  at  the  same  time  com- 
pelled to  unveil  itself,  and  lay  itself  bare,  more  and 
more  every  day.  Have  not  the  shamelessness  and  stupid- 
ity of  the  reasons  with  which  men  antagonize  the  "pro- 
gress of  the  age"  long  surpassed  all  measure  and  all  ex- 


*  P.  408. 


t  [Literally  ''the  man."] 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  63 


pectation  ?  But  it  must  be  so.  The  self-renouncers  must, 
as  holy  men,  take  the  same  course  that  they  do  as  un- 
holy men;  as  the  latter  little  by  little  sink  to  the  fullest 
measure  of  self-renouncing  vulgarity  and  lowness,  so 
the  former  must  ascend  to  the  most  dishonorable  exalta- 
tion. The  mammon  of  the  earth  and  the  God  of  heaven 
both  demand  exactly  the  same  degree  of — self-renuncia- 
tion. The  low  man,  like  the  exalted  one,  reaches  out  for 
a  ''good,'' — the  former  for  the  material  good,  the  latter 
for  the  ideal,  the  so-called  "supreme  good";  and  at  last 
both  complete  each  other  again  too,  as  the  ''materially- 
minded"  man  sacrifices  everything  to  an  ideal  phantasm, 
his  vanity^  and  the  "spiritually-minded"  man  to  a  ma- 
terial gratification,  the  life  of  enjoyment. 

Those  who  exhort  men  to  "unselfishness"  *  think  they 
are  saying  an  uncommon  deal.  What  do  they  understand 
by  it?  Probably  something  like  what  they  understand 
by  self-renunciation."  But  who  is  this  self  that  is  to 
be  renounced  and  to  have  no  benefit  ?  It  seems  that  you 
yourself  are  supposed  to  be  it.  And  for  whose  benefit  is 
unselfish  self-renunciation  recommended  to  you?  Again 
for  your  benefit  and  behoof,  only  that  through  unselfish- 
ness you  are  procuring  your  "true  benefit." 

You  are  to  benefit  yourself,  and  yet  you  are  not  to 
seek  your  benefit. 

People  regard  as  unselfishness  the  benefactor  of  men, 
a  Franke  who  founded  the  orphan  asylum,  an  O'Connell 
who  works  tirelessly  for  his  Irish  people;  but  also  the 
fanatic  who,  like  St.  Boniface,  hazards  his  life  for  the 
conversion  of  the  heathen,  or,  like  Robespierre,  sacri- 
fices everything  to  virtue — like  Koerner,  dies  for  God, 
king,  and  fatherland.  Hence,  among  others,  O'Connell's 
opponents  try  to  trump  up  against  him  some  selfishness 
or  merenariness,  for  which  the  O'Connell  fund  seemed  to 
give  them  a  foundation;  for,  if  they  were  successful  in 


*  [Uneigennuetzigkeit,  literally  "un-self-benefitingness."] 


64 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


casting  suspicion  on  his  '^unselfishness/'  they  would  easily 
separate  him  from  his  adherents. 

Yet  what  could  they  show  further  than  that  O'Connell 
was  working  for  another  end  than  the  ostensible  one? 
But,  whether  he  may  aim  at  making  money  or  at  liberat- 
ing the  people,  it  still  remains  certain,  in  one  case  as 
in  the  other,  that  he  is  striving  for  an  end,  and  that  his 
end;  selfishness  here  as  there,  only  that  his  national 
self-interest  would  be  beneficial  to  others  too,  and  so 
would  be  for  the  common  interest. 

Now,  do  you  suppose  unselfishness  is  unreal  and  no- 
where extant?  On  the  contrary,  nothing  is  more  ordin- 
ry!  One  may  even  call  it  an  article  of  fashion  in  the 
civilized  world,  which  is  considered  so  indispensable 
that,  if  it  costs  too  much  in  solid  material,  people  at 
least  adorn  themselves  with  its  tinsel  counterfeit  and 
feign  it.  Where  does  unselfishness  begin?  Right  where 
an  end  ceases  to  be  our  end  and  our  property,  which  we, 
as  owners,  can  dispose  of  at  pleasure ;  where  it  becomes 
a  fixed  end  or  a — fixed  idea;  where  it  begins  to  inspire, 
enthuse,  f anaticize  us ;  in  short,  where  it  passes  into  our 
stubbornness  and  becomes  our — master.  One  is  not  un- 
selfish so  long  as  he  retains  the  end  in  his  power;  one 
becomes  so  only  at  that  ''Here  I  stand,  I  cannot  do  other- 
wise," the  fundamental  maxim  of  all  the  possessed;  one 
becomes  so  in  the  case  of  a  sacred  end,  through  the  cor- 
responding sacred  zeal. — 

I  am  not  unselfish  so  long  as  the  end  remains  my  own, 
and  I,  instead  of  giving  myself  up  to  be  the  blind  means 
of  its  fulfilment,  leave  it  always  an  open  question.  My 
zeal  need  not  on  that  account  be  slacker  than  the  most 
fanatical,  but  at  the  same  time  I  remain  toward  it 
frostily  cold,  unbelieving,  and  its  most  irreconcilable 
enemy ;  I  remain  its  judge,  beause  I  am  its  owner. 

Unselfishness  grows  rank  as  far  as  possessedness 
reaches,  as  much  on  possessions  of  the  aevil  as  on  those 
of  a.  good  spirit:  there  vice,  folly,  etc.;  here  humility, 
devotion,  etc. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  65 


Where  could  one  look  without  meeting  victims  of 
self-renunication?  There  sits  a  girl  opposite  me,  who 
perhaps  has  been  making  bloody  sacrifices  to  her  soul 
for  ten  years  already.  Over  the  buxom  form  droops  a 
deathly-tired  head,  and  pale  cheeks  betray  the  slow 
bleeding  away  of  her  youth.  Poor  child,  how  often  the 
passions  may  have  beaten  at  your  heart,  and  the  rich 
powers  of  youth  have  demanded  their  right !  When  your 
head  rolled  in  the  soft  pillow,  how  awakening  nature 
quivered  through  your  limbs,  the  blood  swelled  your 
veins,  and  fiery  fancies  poured  the  gleam  of  voluptuous- 
ness into  your  eyes!  Then  appeared  the  ghost  of  the 
soul  and  its  eternal  bliss.  You  were  terrified,  your  hands 
folded  themselves,  your  tormented  eye  turned  its  look 
upward,  you — prayed.  The  storms  of  nature  were 
hushed,  a  calm  glided  over  the  ocean  of  your  appetites. 
Slowly  the  weary  eyelids  sank  over  the  life  extinguished 
under  them,  the  tension  crept  out  unperceived  from  the 
rounded  limbs,  the  boisterous  waves  dried  up  in  the 
heart,  the  folded  hands  themselves  rested  a  powerless 
weight  on  the  unresisting  bosom,  one  last  faint  "Oh 
dear!"  moaned  itself  away,  and — the  soul  was  at  rest. 
You  fell  asleep,  to  awake  in  the  morning  to  a  new  combat 
and  a  new — prayer.  Now  the  habit  of  renunciation  cools 
the  heat  of  your  desire,  and  the  roses  of  your  youth  are 
growing  pale  in  the — chlorosis  of  your  heavenliness. 
The  soul  is  saved,  the  body  may  perish !  O  Lais,  O 
Ninon,  how  well  you  did  to  scorn  this  pale  virtue !  One 
free  grisette  against  a  thousand  virgins  grown  gray  in 
virtue ! 

The  fixed  idea  may  also  be  perceived  as  ''maxim," 
''principle,"  "standpoint,"  and  the  like.  Archimedes,  to 
move  the  earth,  asked  for  a  standpoint  outside  it.  Men 
sought  continually  for  this  standpoint,  and  every  one 
seized  upon  it  as  well  as  he  was  able.  This  foreign 
standpoint  is  the  world  of  mind,  of  ideas,  thoughts,  cpn- 
cepts,  essences,  etc. ;  it  is  heaven.  Heaven  is  the  "stand- 
point" from  which  the  earth  is  moved,  earthly  doings 


66 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


surveyed  and — despised.  To  assure  to  themselves 
heaven,  to  occupy  the  heavenly  standpoint  firmly  and  for 
ever — how  painfully  and  tirelessly  humanity  struggled 
for  this ! 

Christianity  has  aimed  to  deliver  us  from  a  life  de- 
termined by  nature,  from  the  appetites  as  actuating  us, 
and  so  has  meant  that  man  should  not  let  himself  be 
determined  by  his  appetites.  This  does  not  involve  the 
idea  that  he  was  not  to  have  appetites,  but  that  the  ap- 
petites were  not  to  have  him,  that  they  were  not  to  be- 
come fixed,  uncontrollable,  indissoluble.  Now  could 
not  what  Christianity  (religion)  contrived  against  the 
appetites  be  applied  by  us  to  its  own  precept  that  mind 
(thought,  conceptions,  ideas,  faith,  etc.)  must  determine 
us;  could  we  not  ask  that  neither  should  mind,  or  the 
conception,  the  idea,  be  allowed  to  determine  us,  to  be- 
come fixed  and  inviolable  or  "sacred''?  Then  it  would 
end  in  the  dissolution  of  mind,  the  dissolution  of  all 
thoughts,  of  all  conceptions.  As  we  there  had  to  say 
''We  are  indeed  to  have  appetites,  but  the  appetites  are 
not  to  have  us,"  so  we  should  now  say  "We  are  indeed  to 
have  mind,  but  mind  is  not  to  have  us."  If  the  latter 
seems  lacking  in  sense,  think  e.  g.  of  the  fact  that  with  so 
many  a  man  a  thought  becomes  a  "maxim,"  whereby  he 
himself  is  made  prisoner  to  it,  so  that  it  is  not  he  that 
has  the  maxim,  but  rather  it  that  has  him.  And  with 
the  maxim  he  has  a  "permanent  standpoint"  again.  The 
doctrines  of  the  catechism  becomes  our  principles  be- 
fore we  find  it  out,  and  no  longer  brook  rejection.  Their 
thought,  or — mind,  has  the  sole  power,  and  no  protest 
of  the  "flesh"  is  further  listened  to.  Nevertheless  it 
is  only  through  the  "flesh"  that  I  can  break  the  tyranny 
of  mind ;  for  it  is  only  when  a  man  hears  his  flesh  along 
with  the  rest  of  him  that  he  hears  himself  wholly,  and 
it  is  only  when  he  wholly  hears  himself  that  he  is  a  hear- 
ing or  rational*  being.    The  Christian  does  not  hear 


*  [vernuenfHg,  derived  from  vernehmen,  to  hear.] 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  67 


the  agony  of  his  enthralled  nature,  but  lives  in  humil- 
ity'' ;  therefore  he  does  not  grumble  at  the  wrong  which 
befalls  his  person;  he  thinks  himself  satisfied  with  the 
''freedom  of  the  spirit."  But,  if  the  flesh  once  takes  the 
floor,  and  its  tone  is  "passionate,"  ''indecorous,"  "not 
well-disposed,"  "spiteful,"  etc.  (as  it  cannot  be  other- 
wise), then  he  thinks  he  hears  voices  of  devils,  voices 
against  the  spirit  (for  decorum,  passionlessness,  kindly 
disposition,  and  the  like,  is — spirit),  and  is  justly  zeal- 
ous against  them.  He  could  not  be  a  Christian  if  he  were 
willing  to  endure  them.  He  listens  only  to  morality,  and 
slaps  unmorality  in  the  mouth ;  he  listens  only  to  legality, 
and  gags  the  lawless  word.  The  spirit  of  morality  and 
legality  holds  him  a  prisoner ;  a  rigid,  unbending  master. 
They  call  that  the  "mastery  of  the  spirit" — it  is  at  the 
same  time  the  standpoint  of  the  spirit. 

And  now  whom  do  the  ordinary  liberal  gentlemen 
mean  to  make  free?  Whose  freedom  is  it  that  they  cry 
out  and  thirst  for?  The  spirifs!  That  of  the  spirit  of 
morality,  legality,  piety,  the  fear  of  God,  etc.  That  is 
what  the  anti-liberal  gentlemen  also  want,  and  the  whole 
contention  between  the  two  turns  on  a  matter  of  advan- 
tage— whether  the  latter  are  to  be  the  only  speakers,  or 
the  former  are  to  receive  a  "share  in  the  enjoyment  of 
the  same  advantage."  The  spirit  remains  the  absolute 
lord  for  both,  and  their  only  quarrel  is  over  who  shall 
occupy  the  hierarchical  throne  that  pertains  to  the  "Vice- 
gerent of  the  Lord."  The  best  of  it  is  that  one  can  calm- 
ly look  upon  the  stir  with  the  certainty  that  the  wild 
beasts  of  history  will  tear  each  other  to  pieces  just  like 
those  of  nature;  their  putrefying  corpses  fertilize  the 
ground  for — our  crops. 

We  shall  come  back  later  to  many  another  wheel  in 
the  head — for  instance,  those  of  vocation,  truthfulness, 
love,  tec. 

When  one's  own  is  contrasted  with  what  is  imparted  to 
him,  there  is  no  use  in  objectng  that  we  cannot  have  any- 


68 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


thing  isolated,  but  receive  everything  as  a  part  of  the 
universal  order,  and  therefore  through  the  impression  of 
what  is  around  us,  and  that  consequently  we  have  it  as 
something  ''imparted";  for  there  is  a  great  difference 
between  the  feelings  and  thoughts  which  are  aroused  in 
me  by  other  things  and  those  which  are  given  to  me.  God, 
immortality,  freedom,  humanity,  etc.,  are  drilled  into  us 
from  childhood  as  thoughts  and  feelings  which  move  our 
inner  being  more  or  less  strongly,  either  ruling  us  with- 
out our  knowing  it,  or  sometimes  in  richer  natures  mani- 
festing themelves  in  systems  and  works  of  art;  but  are 
always  not  aroused,  but  imparted,  feelings,  because  we 
must  believe  in  them  and  cling  to  them.  That  an  Absol- 
ute existed,  and  that  it  must  be  taken  in,  felt,  and  thought 
by  us,  was  settled  as  a  faith  in  the  minds  of  those  who 
spent  all  the  strength  of  their  mind  on  recognizing  it  and 
setting  it  forth.  The  feeling  for  the  Absolute  exists  there 
as  an  imparted  one,  and  thenceforth  results  only  in  the 
most  manfold  revelations  of  its  own  self.  So  in  Klop- 
stock  the  religious  feeling  was  an  imparted  one,  which 
in  the  ''Messiad''  simply  found  artistic  expression.  If, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  religion  with  which  he  was  con- 
fronted had  been  for  him  only  an  incitation  to  feeling 
and  thought,  and  if  he  had  known  how  to  take  an  atti- 
tude completely  his  own  toward  it,  then  there  would  have 
resulted,  instead  of  religious  inspiration,  a  dissolution  and 
consumption  of  the  religion  itself.  Instead  of  that,  he 
only  continued  in  mature  years  his  childish  feelings  re-^ 
ceived  in  childhood,  and  squandered  the  powers  of  his 
manhood  in  decking  out  his  childish  trifles. 

The  difference  is,  then,  whether  feelings  are  imparted 
to  me  or  only  aroused.  Those  which  are  aroused  are 
my  own,  egoistic,  because  they  are  not  as  feelings  drilled 
into  me,  dictated  to  me,  and  pressed  upon  me;  but  those 
which  are  imparted  to  me  I  receive,  with  open  arms — 
I  cherish  them  in  me  as  a  heritage,  cultivate  them,  and 
am  possessed  by  them.  Who  is  there  that  has  never, 
more  or  less  consciously,  noticed  that  our  whole  educa- 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  69 


tion  is  calculated  to  produce  feelings  in  us,  i.  e,  impart 
them  to  us,  instead  of  leaving  their  production  to  our- 
selves however  they  may  turn  out  ?  If  we  hear  the  name 
of  God,  we  are  to  feel  veneration;  if  we  hear  that  of 
the  prince's  majesty,  it  is  to  be  received  with  reverence, 
deference,  submission;  if  we  hear  that  of  morality,  we 
are  to  think  that  we  hear  something  inviolable;  if  we 
hear  of  the  Evil  One  or  evil  ones,  we  are  to  shudder; 
etc.  The  intention  is  directed  to  these  feelings,  and  he 
who  e.  g.  should  hear  with  pleasure  the  deeds  of  the 
''bad''  would  have  to  be  ''taught  what't  what"  with  the 
rod  of  discipline.  Thus  stuffed  with  imparted  feelings. 
we  appear  before  the  bar  of  majority  and  are  "pronounc- 
ed of  age."  Our  equipment  consists  of  "elevating  feel-  . 
ings,  lofty  thoughts,  inspiring  maxims,  eternal  princi- 
ples," etc  The  young  are  of  age  when  they  twitter  like 
the  old;  they  are  driven  through  school  to  learn  the  old 
song,  and,  when  they  have  this  by  heart,  they  are  declared 
of  age. 

We  must  not  feel  at  every  thing  and  every  name  that 
comes  before  us  what  we  could  and  would  like  to  feel 
thereat ;  e.  g.,  at  the  name  of  God  we  must  think  of  noth- 
ing laughable,  feel  nothing  disrespectful,  it  being  pre- 
scribed and  imparted  to  us  what  and  how  we  are  to  feel 
and  think  at  mention  of  that  name. 

That  is  the  meaning  of  the  care  of  souls — ^that  my  soul 
or  my  mind  be  tuned  as  others  think  right,  not  as  I 
myself  would  like  it.  How  much  trouble  does  it  not 
cost  one,  finally  to  secure  to  oneself  a  feeling  of  one's 
own  at  the  mention  of  at  least  this  or  that  name,  and  to 
laugh  in  the  face  of  many  who  expect  from  us  a  holy 
face  and  a  composed  expression  at  their  speeches.  What 
is  imparted  is  alien  to  u^,  is  not  our  own,  and  therefore, 
is  "sacred,"  and  it  is  hard  work  to  lay  aside  the  "sacred 
dread  of  it." 

To-day  one  again  hears  "seriousness"  praised,  "seri- 
ousness in  the  presence  of  highly  important  subjects  and 
discussions,"  "German  seriousness,"  etc.    This  sort  of 


70 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


seriousness  proclaims  clearly  how  old  and  grave  lunacy 
and  possession  have  already  become.  For  there  is  noth- 
ing more  serious  than  a  lunatic  when  he  comes  to  the 
central  point  of  his  lunacy;  then  his  great  earnestness 
incapacities  him  for  taking  a  joke.     (See  madhouses.) 

§  3. — The  Hierarchy 

The  historical  reflections  on  our  Mongolisni  which  I 
propose  to  insert  episodically  at  this  place  are  not  given 
with  the  claim  of  thoroughness,  or  even  of  approved 
soundness,  but  solely  because  it  seems  to  me  that  they 
may  contribute  toward  making  the  rest  clear. 

The  history  of  the  world,  whose  shaping  properly 
belongs  altogether  to  the  Caucasian  race,  seems  till  now 
to  have  run  through  two  Caucasian  ages,  in  the  first 
of  which  we  had  to  work  out  and  work  off  our  innate 
negroidity;  this  was  followed  in  the  second  by  Mongolo- 
idity  (Chineseness),  which  must  likewise  be  terribly  made 
an  end  of.  Negroidity  represents  antiquity,  the  time  of 
dependence  on  things  (on  cocks'  eating,  birds'  flight,  on 
sneezing,  on  thunder  and  lightning,  on  the  rusting  of 
sacred  trees,  etc.)  ;  M^ngoloidity  the  time  of  depend- 
ence on  thoughts,  the  Christian  time.  Reserved  for  the 
future  are  the  words  am  owner  of  the  world  of  things 
and  I  am  owner  of  the  world  of  mind." 

In  the  negroid  age  fall  the  campaigns  of  Sesostris  and 
the  importance  of  Egypt  and  of  northern  Africa  in  gen- 
eral. To  the  Mongoloid  age  belongs  the  invasions  of  the 
Huns  and  Mongols,  up  to  the  Russians. 

The  value  of  me  cannot  possibly  be  rated  high  so  long 
as  the  hard  diamond  of  the  not-me  bears  so  enormous  a 
price  as  was  the  case  both  with  God  and  with  the  world. 
The  not-me  is  still  too  stony  and  indomitable  to  be  con- 
suming it.  It  is  the  bustle  of  vermin,  the  assiduity  of 
with  extraordinary  bustle  on  this  immovable  entity,  i.  e. 
on  this  substance,  like  parasitic  animals  on  a  body  from 
whose  juices  they  draw  nourishment,  yet  without  con- 
suming it.    It  is  the  bustle  of  vermin,  the  assiduity  of 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  71 


Mongolians.  Among  the  Chinese,  we  know,  everything 
remains  as  it  used  to  be,  and  nothing  ''essentiaF'  of  "sub- 
stantiaF'  suffers  a  change;  all  the  more  actively  do  they 
work  away  at  that  which  remains,  which  bears  the  name 
of  the  ''old/'  ''ancestors,''  etc. 

Accordingly,  in  our  Mongolian  age  all  change  has  been 
only  reformatory  or  ameliorative,  not  destructive  or  con- 
suming and  annihilating.  The  substance,  the  object  re- 
mains. All  our  assiduity  was  only  the  activity  of  ants 
and  the  hopping  of  fleas,  jugglers'  tricks  on  the  immov- 
able tight-rope  of  the  objective,  corz^^^-service  under  the 
lordshp  of  the  unchangeable  or  "eternad."  The  Chinese 
are  doubtless  the  most  positive  nation,  because  totally 
buried  in  precepts;  but  neither  has  the  Christian  age 
come  out  from  the  positive,  i.  e,  from  "limited  freedom," 
freedom  "within  certain  limits.'^  In  the  most  advanced 
stage  of  civilization  this  activity  earns  the  name  of 
scientific  activity,  of  working  on  a  motionless  presupposi- 
tion, a  hypothesis  that  is  not  to  be  upset. 

In  its  first  and  most  unintelligible  form  morality  shows 
itself  as  habit.  To  act  according  to  the  habit  and  usage 
(morem)  of  one's  country — is  to  be  moral  there.  There- 
fore pure  moral  action,  clear,  unadulterated  morality,  is 
most  straightforwardly  practised  in  China;  they  keep  to 
the  old  habit  and  usage,  and  hate  each  innovation  as  a 
crime  worthy  of  death.  For  innovation  is  the  deadly 
enemy  of  habit,  of  the  old,  of  permanence.  In  fact,  too, 
it  admits  of  no  doubt  that  through  habit  man  secures 
himself  against  the  obstrusiveness  of  things,  of  the 
world,  and  founds  a  world  of  his  own  in  which  alone  he 
is  and  feels  at  home,  i.  e.  builds  himself  a  heaven.  Why, 
heaven  has  no  other  meaning  than  that  it  is  man's  proper 
home,  in  which  nothing  alien  regulates  and  rules  him  any 
longer,  no  influence  of  the  earthly  any  longer  makes 
him  himself  alien;  in  short,  in  which  the  dross  of  the 
earthly  is  thrown  off,  and  the  combat  against  the  world 
has  found  an  end — in  which,  therefore,  nothing  is  any 
longer  denied  him.    Heaven  is  the  end  of  abnegation. 


72 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


it  is  free  enjoyment.  There  man  no  longer  denies  him- 
self anything,  because  nothing  is  any  longer  alien  and 
hostile  to  him.  But  now  habit  is  a  **second  nature," 
which  detaches  and  frees  man  from  his  first  and  original 
natural  condition,  in  securing  him  against  every  casualty 
of  it.  The  fully  elaborated  habit  of  the  Chinese  has  pro- 
vided for  all  emergencies,  and  everything  is  ''looked  out 
for'' ;  whatever  may  come,  the  Chinaman  always  knows 
how  he  has  to  behave,  and  does  not  need  to  decide  first 
according  to  the  circumstances ;  no  unf orseen  case  throws 
him  down  from  the  heaven  of  his  rest.  The  morally 
habituated  and  inured  Chinaman  is  not  surprised  and 
taken  off  his  guard;  he  behaves  with  equanimity  (i.  e. 
with  equal  spirit  or  temper)  toward  everything,  because 
his  temper,  protected  by  the  precaution  of  his  traditional 
usage,  does  not  lose  its  balance.  Hence,  on  the  ladder 
of  culture  or  civilization  humanity  mounts  the  first 
round  through  habit ;  and,  as  it  conceives  that,  in  climb- 
ing to  culture,  it  is  at  the  same  time  climbing  to  heaven, 
the  realm  of  culture  or  second  nature,  it  really  mounts 
the  first  round  of  the — ladder  to  heaven. 

If  Mongoldom  has  settled  the  existence  of  spiritual 
beings — if  it  has  created  a  world  of  spirits,  a  heaven, — 
the  Caucasians  have  wrestled  for  thousands  of  years  with 
these  spiritual  beings,  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  them. 
What  were  they  doing,  then,  but  building  on  Mongolian 
ground?  They  have  not  built  on  sand,  but  in  the  air, 
they  have  wrestled  with  Mongolism,  stormed  the  Mongo- 
lian heaven,  Tien.  When  will  they  at  last  annihilate  this 
heaven?  When  will  they  at  last  become  really  Caucas- 
ians, and  find  themselves?  When  will  the  ''immortal- 
ity of  the  soul,''  which  in  these  latter  days  thought  it 
was  giving  still  more  security  if  it  presented  itself  as 
"immortality  of  mind,"  at  last  change  to  the  mortality  of 
mind? 

It  was  when,  in  the  industrious  struggle  of  the  Mongo- 
lian race,  men  had  hiiilt  a  heaven,  that  those  of  the  Cau- 
casian race,  since  in  their  Mongolian  complexion  they 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  73 


have  to  do  with  heaven,  took  upon  themselves  the  op- 
posite task,  the  task  of  storming  that  heaven  of  custom, 
heaven-storming'^  activity.  To  dig  under  all  human 
ordinance,  in  order  to  set  up  a  new  and — better  one  on 
the  cleared  site,  to  wreck  all  customs  in  order  to  put 
new  and — better  customs  in  their  place,  etc. — their  act 
is  limited  to  this.  But  is  it  thus  already  purely  and  really 
what  it  aspires  to  be,  and  does  it  reach  its  final  aim? 
No,  in  this  creation  of  a  ''better'  it  is  tainted  with  Mon- 
golism. It  storms  heaven  only  to  make  a  heaven  again, 
it  overthrows  an  old  power  only  to  legitimate  a  new  pow- 
er, it  only— improves.  Nevertheless  the  point  aimed  at 
often  as  it  may  vanish  from  the  eyes  at  every  new  at- 
tempt, is  the  real,  complete  downfall  of  heaven,  customs, 
etc. — in  short,  of  man  secured  only  against  the  world,  of 
the  isolation  or  inwardness  of  man.  Through  the  hea- 
ven of  culture  man  seeks  to  isolate  himself  from  the 
world,  to  break  its  hostile  power.  But  this  isolation  of 
heaven  must  likewise  be  broken,  and  the  true  end  of 
heaven-storming  is  the — downfall  of  heaven,  the  anni- 
hilation of  heaven.  Improving  and  reforming  is  the 
Mongolism  of  the  Caucasian,  because  thereby  he  is  al- 
ways setting  up  again  what  already  existed — ^to  wit,  a 
precept,  a  generality,  a  heaven.  He  harbors  the  most 
irreconcilable  enmity  to  heaven,  and  yet  builds  new 
heavens  daily ;  piling  heaven  on  heaven,  he  only  crushes 
one  by  another;  the  Jews'  heaven  destroys  the  Greeks', 
the  Christians'  the  Jews',  the  Protestants'  the  Catholics' 
etc. — If  the  heaven-storming  men  of  Caucasian  blood 
throw  off  their  Mongolian  skin,  they  will  bury  the 
emotional  man  under  the  ruins  of  the  monstrous  world 
of  emotion,  the  isolated  man  under  his  isolated  world, 
the  paradisiacal  man  under  his  heaven.  And  heaven  is 
the  realm  of  spirits,  the  realm  of  freedom  of  the  spirit. 

The  realm  of  heaven,  the  realm  of  spirits  and  ghosts, 
has  found  its  right  standing  in  the  speculative  philosophy. 


♦  [A  German  idiom  for  destructive  radicalism.] 


74 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


Here  it  was  stated  as  the  realm  of  thoughts,  concepts, 
and  ideas;  heaven  is  peopled  with  thoughts  and  ideas, 
and  this  ''realm  of  spirits''  is  then  the  true  reality. 

To  want  to  win  freedom  for  the  spirit  is  Mongolism ; 
freedom  of  the  spirit  is  Mongolian  freedom,  freedom  of 
feeling,  moral  freedom,  etc. 

We  may  find  the  word  ''morality"  taken  as  synony- 
mous with  spontaneity,  self-determination.  But  that  is 
not  involved  in  it ;  rather  has  the  Caucasian  shown  him- 
self spontaneous  only  in  spite  of  his  Mongolian  morality. 
The  Mongolian  heaven,  or  morals,"^  remained  the  strong 
castle,  and  only  by  storming  incessantly  at  this  castle 
did  the  Caucasian  show  himself  moral;  if  he  had  not 
had  to  do  with  morals  at  all  any  longer,  if  he  had  not 
had  therein  his  indomitable,  continual  enemy,  the  re- 
lation to  morals  would  cease,  and  consequently  morality 
would  cease.  That  his  spontaneity  is  still  a  moral  spon- 
taneity, therefore,  is  just  the  Mongoloidity  of  it— is  a 
sign  that  in  it  he  has  not  arrived  at  himself.  "Moral 
spontaneity"  corresponds  entirely  with  "religious  and 
orthodox  philosophy,"  "constitutional  monarchy,"  "the 
Christian  State,"  "freedom  within  certain  limits,'*  "the 
limited  freedom  of  the  press,"  or,  in  a  figure,  to  the  hero 
fettered  to  a  sick-bed. 

Man  has  not  really  vanquished  Shamanism  and  its  ^ 
spooks  till  he  possesses  the  strength  to  lay  aside  not 
only  the  belief  in  ghosts  or  in  spirits,  but  also  the  belief  in 
the  spirit. 

He  who  believes  in  a  spook  no  more  assumes  the 
"introduction  of  a  higher  world"  than  he  who  believes  ' 
in  the  spirit,  and  both  seek  behind  the  sensual  world  a 
supersensual  one ;  in  short,  they  produce  and  believe  an- 
other world,  and  this  other  zvorld,  the  product  of  their 
mind,  is  a  spiritual  world;  for  their  senses  grasp  and 
know  nothing  of  another,  a  non-sensual  world,  only  their 


*  [The  same  word  that  has  been  translated  "custom"  several 
times  in  this  section.] 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  75 


spirit  lives  in  it.  Going  on  from  this  Mongolian  belief  in 
the  existence  of  spiritual  beings  to  the  point  that  the 
proper  being  of  man  too  is  his  spirit,  and  that  all  care 
must  be  directed  to  this  alone,  to  the  ''welfare  of  his 
soul,''  is  not  hard.  Influence  on  the  spirit,  so-called 
''moral  influence,''  is  hereby  assured. 

Hence  it  is  manifest  that  Mongolism  represents  utter 
absence  of  any  rights  of  the  sensuous,  represents  non- 
sensuousness  and  unnature,  and  that  sin  and  the  con- 
sciousness of  sin  was  our  Mongolian  torment  that  lasted 
thousands  of  years. 

Bu  who,  then,  will  dissolve  the  spirit  into  its  noth- 
ing? He  who  by  means  of  the  spirit  set  forth  nature  as 
the  null,  finite,  transitory^  he  alone  can  bring  down  the 
spirit  too  to  like  nullity.  /  can;  each  one  among  you 
can,  who  does  his  will  as  an  absolute  I ;  in  a  word,  the 
egoist  can. 

Before  the  sacred,  people  lose  all  sense  of  power  and 
all  confidence;  they  occupy  a  powerless  and  humble  at- 
titude toward  it.  And  yet  no  thing  is  sacred  of  itself,  but 
by  my  declaring  it  sacred,  by  my  declaration,  my  judg- 
ment, my  bending  the  knee;  in  short,  by  my — con- 
science. 

Sacred  is  everything  which  for  the  egoist  is  to  be  un- 
approachable, not  to  be  touched,  outside  his  power — i,  e. 
above  him;  sacred,  in  a  word,  is  every  matter  of  consci- 
ence, for  *'this  is  a  matter  of  conscience  to  me"  means 
simply  "I  hold  this  sacred." 

For  little  children,  just  as  for  animals,  nothing  sacred 
exists,  because,  in  order  to  make  room  for  this  concep- 
tion, one  must  already  have  progressed  so  far  in  under- 
standing that  he  can  make  distinctions  like  "good  and 
bad,"  "warranted  and  unwarranted,"  etc. ;  only  at  such 
a  level  of  reflection  or  intelligence — the  proper  stand- 
point of  religion — can  unnatural  (i.  e.  brought  into  ex- 
istence by  thinking)  reverence,  "sacred  dread,"  step  into 
the  place  of  natural  fear.    To  this  sacred  dread  belongs 


76 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


holding  something  outside  oneself  for  mightier,  greater, 
bttter  warranted,  better,  etc.;  i.  e.  the  attitude  in  wjiich 
one  acknowledges  the  might  of  something  alien — not 
merely  feels  it,  then,  but  expressly  acknowledges  it,  i.  e, 
admits  it,  yields,  surrenders,  lets  himself  be  tied  (devo- 
tion, humility,  servility,  submission,  etc.)  Here  walks 
the  whole  ghostly  troop  of  the  ''Christian  virtues." 

Everything  toward  which  you  cherish  any  respect  or 
reverence  deserves  the  name  of  sacred;  you  yourselves, 
too,  say  that  you  would  feel  a  ''sacred  dread''  of  laying 
hands  on  it.  And  you  give  this  tinge  even  to  the  un- 
holy (gallows,  crime,  etc.)  You  have  a  horror  of  touch- 
ing it.  There  lies  in  it  something  uncanny,  i.  e.  unfa- 
miliar or  not  your  ozvn. 

"Ii  something  or  other  did  not  rank  as  sacred  in  a 
man's  mind,  why,  then  all  bars  would  be  let  down  to 
self-will,  to  unlimited  subjectivity!"  Fear  makes  the  be- 
gmning,  and  one  can  make  himself  fearful  to  the  coars- 
est man;  already,  therefore,  a  barrier  against  his  insol- 
ence. But  in  fear  there  always  remains  the  attempt  to 
liberate  oneself  from  what  is  feared,  by  guile,  deception, 
tricks,  etc.  In  reverence,"^  on  the  contrary,  it  is  quite  other- 
wise. Here  something  is  not  only  f eared, f  but  also 
honored:!::  what  is  feared  has  become  an  inward  power 
which  I  can  no  longer  get  clear  of ;  I  honor  it,  am  captiv- 
ated by  it  and  devoted  to  it,  belong  to  it;  by  the  honor 
which  I  pay  it  I  am  completely  in  its  power,  and  do  not 
even  attempt  liberation  any  longer.  Now  I  am  attached 
to  it  with  all  the  strength  of  faith ;  I  believe.  I  and  what 
I  fear  are  one ;  ''not  I  live,  but  the  respected  lives  in  me !" 
Because  the  spirit,  the  infinite,  does  not  allow  of  com- 
ing to  any  end,  therefore  it  is  stationary ;  it  fears  dying, 
it  cannot  let  go  its  dear  Jesus,  the  greatness  of  finiteness 
is  no  longer  recognized  by  its  blinded  eye;  the  object  of 
fear,  now  raised  to  veneration,  may  no  longer  be  handled ; 
reverence  is  made  eternal,  the  respected  is  deified.  The 


*  [Ehrfurcht} 


t  [gefuerchtet]  J  [geehrt] 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  77 


man  is  now  no  longer  employed  in  creating,  but  in  learn- 
mg  (knowing,  investigating,  etc.),  i.  e,  occupied  with  a 
fixed  object,  losing  himself  in  its  depths,  without  return 
to  himself.  The Yelation  to  this  object  is  that  of  knowing, 
fathoming,  basing,  etc.,  not  that  of  dissolution  (abroga- 
tion, etc.).  ''Man  is  to  be  religious,"  that  is  settled; 
therefore  people  busy  themselves  only  with  the  question 
how  this  is  to  be  attained,  what  is  the  right  meaning  of 
religiousness,  etc.  Quite  otherwise  when  one  makes  the 
axiom  itself  doubtful  and  calls  it  in  question,  even 
though  it  should  go  to  smash.  Morality  too  is  such  a 
sacred  conception ;  one  must  be  moral,  and  must  look  only 
for  the  right  ''how,''  the  right  way  to  be  so.  One  dares 
not  go  at  morality  itself  with  the  question  whether  it  is 
not  itself  an  illusion;  it  remains  exalted  above  all  doubt, 
unchangeable.  And  so  we  go  on  with  the  sacred,  grade 
after  grade,  from  the  "holy''  to  the  "holy  of  holies." 

Men  are  sometimes  divided  into  two  classes,  cultured 
and  uncultured.  The  former,  so  far  as  they  were  worthy 
of  their  name,  occupied  themselves  with  thoughts,  with 
mind,  and  (because  in  the  time  since  Christ,  of  which  the 
very  principle  is  thought,  they  w^ere  the  ruling  ones)  de- 
manded a  servile  respect  for  the  thoughts  recognized  by 
them.  State,  emperor,  church,  God,  morality,  order,  etc., 
are  such  thoughts  or  spirits,  that  exist  only  for  the  mind. 
A  merely  living  being,  an  animal,  cares  as  little  for  them 
as  a  child.  But  the  uncultured  are  really  nothing  but 
children,  and  he  who  attends  only  to  the  necessities  of 
his  life  is  indifferent  to  those  spirits ;  but,  because  he  is 
also  weak  before  them,  he  succumbs  to  their  power,  and 
is  ruled  by — thoughts.   This  is  the  meaning  of  hierarchy. 

Hierarchy  is  dominion  of  thoughts,  dominion  of  mind! 

We  are  hierarchic  to  this  day,  kept  down  by  those  who 
are  supported  by  thoughts.    Thoughts  are  the  sacred. 

But  the  two  are  always  clashing,  now  one  and  now 
the  other  giving  the  offence  :  and  this  clash  occurs,  not 
only  in  the  collision  of  two  men,  but  in  one  and  the 


78 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


same  man.  For  no  cultured  man  is  so  cultured  as  not  to 
find  enjoyment  in  things  too,  and  so  be  uncultured; 
and  no  uncultured  man  is  totally  without  thoughts.  In 
Hegel  it  comes  to  light  at  last  what  a  longing  for  things 
even  the  most  cultured  man  has,  and  what  a  horror  of 
every  ''hollow  theory"  he  harbors.  With  him  reality, 
the  world  of  things,  is  altogether  to  correspond  to  the 
thought,  and  no  concept  to  be  without  reality.  This  caused 
Hegel's  system  to  be  known  as  the  most  objective,  as 
if  in  it  thought  and  thing  celebrated  their  union.  But 
this  was  simply  the  extremest  case  of  violence  on  the  part 
of  thought,  its  highest  pitch  of  despotism  and  sole  do- 
minion, the  triumph  of  mind,  and  with  it  the  triumph  of 
philosophy.  Philosophy  cannot  hereafter  achieve  any- 
thing higher,  for  its  highest  is  the  omnipotence  of  mind, 
the  almightiness  of  mind."^ 

Spiritual  men  have  taken  into  their  head  something 
that  is  to  be  realized.  They  have  concepts  of  love,  good- 
ness, and  the  like,  which  they  would  like  to  see  realized; 
therefore  they  want  to  set  up  a  kingdom  of  love  on  earth, 
in  which  no  one  any  longer  acts  from  selfishness,  but  each 
one  ''from  love."  Love  is  to  rule.  What  they  have  taken 
into  their  head,  what  shall  we  call  it  but — fixed  idea? 
Why,  "their  head  is  haunted/'  The  most  oppressive 
spook  is  Man.  Think  of  the  proverb,  "The  road  to  ruin 
is  paved  with  good  intentions."  The  intention  to  realize 
humanity  altogether  in  oneself,  to  become  altogether 
man,  is  of  such  ruinous  kind ;  here  belongs  the  intentions 
to  become  good,  noble,  loving,  etc. 

In  the  sixth  part  of  the  ''Denkwuerdigkeiten,"  p.  7, 
Bruno  Bauer  says :  "That  middle  class,  which  was  to  re- 
ceive such  a  terrible  importance  for  modern  history,  is 
capable  of  no  self-sacrificing  action,  no  enthusiasm  for 
an  idea,  no  exaltation;  it  devotes  itself  to  nothing  but 

*  Rousseau,  the  Philanthropists,  and  others  were  hostile  to 
culture  and  intelligence,  but  they  overlooked  the  fact  that  this  ts 
present  in  all  men  of  the  Christian  type,  and  assailed  only  learned 
and  refined  culture. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  79 

the  interests  of  is  mediocrity;  i,  e.  it  remains  always 
limited  to  itself,  and  conquers  at  last  only  through  its 
bulk,  with  which  it  has  succeeded  in  tiring  out  the  efforts 
of  passion,  enthusiasm,  consistency — through  its  surface, 
into  which  it  absorbs  a  part  of  the  new  ideas."  And 
(p.  6)  ''It  has  turned  the  revolutionary  ideas,  for  which 
not  it,  but  unselfish  or  impassioned  men  sacrificed  them- 
elves  solely  to  its  own  profit,  has  turned  spirit  into  money. 
— That  is,  to  be  sure,  after  it  had  taken  away  from  those 
ideas  their  point,  their  consistency,  their  destructive  seri- 
ousness, fanatical  against  all  egoism."  These  people, 
then,  are  not  self-sacrificing,  not  enthusiastic,  not  ideal- 
istic, not  consistent,  not  zealots;  they  are  egoists  in  the 
usual  sense,  selfish  people,  looking  out  for  their  advant- 
age, sober,  calculating,  etc. 

Who,  then,  is  "self-sacrificing"  P"^'  In  the  full  sense, 
surely,  he  who  ventures  everything  else  for  one  thing, 
one  object,  one  will^  one  passion,  etc.  Is  not  the  lover 
self-sacrificing  who  forsakes  father  and  mother,  endures 
all  dangers  and  privations,  to  reach  his  goal?  Or  the 
ambitious  man,  who  offers  up  all  his  desires,  wishes,  and 
satisfactions  to  the  single  passion,  or  the  avaricious  man 
who  denies  himself  everything  to  gather  treasures,  or 
the  pleasure-seeker,  etc.?  He  is  ruled  by  a  passion  to 
which  he  brings  the  rest  as  sacrifices. 

And  are  these  self-sacrificing  people  perchance  not  sel- 
fish, not  egoists?  As  they  have  only  one  ruling  passion, 
so  they  provide  for  only  one  satisfaction,  but  for  this 
the  more  strenuously;  they  are  wholly  absorbed  in  it. 
Their  entire  activity  is  egoistic,  but  it  is  a  onesided,  un- 
opened, narrow  egoism ;  it  is  possessedness. 

''Why,  those  are  petty  passions,  by  which,  on  the  con- 
trary, man  must  not  let  himself  be  enthralled.  Man 
must  make  sacrifices  for  a  great  idea,  a  great  cause!" 
A  "great  idea,"  a  "good  cause,"  is^  it  may  be,  the  honor 


*  [Literally,  ''sacrificing";  the  German  word  has  not  the  prefix 
"self."] 


80 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


of  God,  for  which  innumerable  pople  have  met  death, 
Christianity,  which  has  found  its  wiUing  martyrs;  the 
Holy  Catholic  Church,  which  has  greedily  demanded 
sacrifices  of  heretics;  liberty  and  equality,  which  were 
vvaited  on  by  bloody  guillotines. 

He  who  lives  for  a  great  idea,  a  good  cause,  a  doc- 
trine, a  system,  a  lofty  calling,  may  not  let  any  worldly 
lusts,  any  self-seeking  interest,  spring  up  in  him.  Here 
we  have  the  concept  of  clericalism,  or,  as  it  may  also 
be  called  in  its  pedagogic  activity,  school-masterliness ; 
for  the  idealist  play  the  schoolmaster  over  us.  The 
clergyman  is  especially  called  to  live  to  the  idea  and  to 
work  for  the  idea,  the  truly  good  cause.  Therefore  the 
people  feel  how  little  it  befits  him  to  show  worldly 
haughtiness,  to  desire  good  living,  to  join  in  such  pleas- 
ures as  dancing  and  gaming — in  short,  to  have  any  other 
than  a  ''sacred  interest."  Hence  too,  doubtless,  is  derived 
the  scanty  salary  of  teachers,  who  are  to  feel  themselves 
repaid  by  the  sacredness  of  their  calling  alone,  and  to 
^'renounce''  other  enjoyments. 

Even  a  directory  of  the  sacred  ideas,  one  or  more  of 
which  man  is  to  look  upon  at  his  calling,  is  not  lacking. 
Family,  fatherland,  science,  etc.,  may  find  in  me  a  serv- 
ant faithful  to  his  calling. 

Here  we  come  upon  the  old,  old  craze  of  the  world, 
which  has  not  yet  learned  to  do  without  clericalism— 
that  to  live  and  work  for  an  idea  is  man's  calling,  and 
according  to  the  faithfulness  of  its  fulfilment  his  human 
worth  is  measured. 

This  is  the  dominion  of  the  idea;  in  other  words,  it 
is  clericalism.  E.  g.,  Robespierre,  St.  Just,  etc.,  were 
priests  through  and  through,  inspired  by  the  idea,  en- 
thusiasts, consistent  instruments  of  this  idea,  idealistic 
•men.  So  St.  Just  exclaims  in  a  speech,  ''There  is  some- 
thing terrible  in  the  sacred  love  of  country;  it  is  so  ex- 
clusive that  it  sacrifices  everything  to  the  public  interest 
without  mercy,  without  fear,  without  human  considera- 
tion.   It  hurls  Manlius  down  the  precipice ;  it  sacrifices 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  81 


its  private  inclinations ;  it  leads  Regulus  to  Carthage, 
throws  a  Roman  into  the  chasm,  and  sets  Marat,  as  a 
victim  of  his  devotion,  in  the  Pantheon." 

Now,  over  against  these  representatives  of  ideal  or 
sacrec  interests  stands  a  world  of  innumerable  "person- 
al" profane  interests.  No  idea,  no  system,  no  sacred 
cause  is  so  great  as  never  to  be  outrivaled  and  modified 
by  these  personal  interests.  Even  if  they  are  silent  mo- 
mentarily, and  in  times  of  rage  and  fanaticism,  yet  they 
soon  come  uppermost  again  through  "the  sound  sense  of 
the  people."  Those  ideas  do  not  completely  conquer  till 
they  are  no  longer  hostile  to  personal  interests,  i.  e,  till 
they  satisfy  egoism. 

The  man  who  is  just  now  crying  herrings  in  front  of 
my  window  has  a  personal  interest  in  good  sales,  and, 
if  his  wife  or  anybody  else  wishes  him  the  like,  this  re- 
mains a  personal  interest  all  the  same.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  a  thief  deprived  him  of  his  basket,  then  there 
would  at  once  arise  an  interest  of  many,  of  the  whole 
city,  of  the  whole  country,  or,  in  a  word,  of  all  who 
abhor  theft ;  an  interest  in  which  the  herring-seller's  per- 
son would  become  indifferent,  and  in  its  place  the  cate- 
gory of  the  "robbed  man"  would  come  into  the  fore- 
ground. But  even  here  all  might  yet  resolve  itself  into 
a  personal  interest,  each  of  the  partakers  reflecting  that 
he  must  concur  in  the  punishment  of  the  theft  because 
impunished  stealing  might  otherwise  become  general  and 
cause  him  too  to  lose  his  own.  Such  a  calculation,  how- 
ever, can  hardly  be  assumed  on  the  part  of  many,  and  we 
shall  rather  hear  the  cry  that  the  thief  is  a  "criminal." 
Here  we  have  before  us  a  judgment,  the  thief's  action 
receiving  its  expression  in  the  concept  "crime."  Now 
the  matter  stands  thus:  even  if  a  crime  did  not  cause 
the  slightest  damage  either  to  me  or  to  any  of  those  in 
whom  I  take  an  Interest,  I  should  nevertheless  denounce 
it.  Why?  Because  I  am  enthusiastic  for  morality,  filled 
with  the  idea  of  morality :  what  is  hostile  to  it  I  every- 
where assail.   Because  In  his  mind  theft  ranks  as  abom- 


82  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 

inable  without  any  question,  Proudhon,  e.  g.,  thinks  that 
with  the  sentence  ^'Property  is  theft''  he  has  at  once 
put  a  brand  on  property.  In  the  sense  of  the  priestly, 
theft  is  always  a  crime,  or  at  least  a  misdeed. 

Here  the  personal  interest  is  at  an  end.  This  par- 
ticular person  who  has  stolen  the  basket  is  perfectly 
indifferent  to  my. person;  it  is  only  the  thief,  this  con- 
cept of  which  that  person  presents  a  specimen,  that  I 
take  an  interest  in.  The  thief  and  man  are  in  my  mind 
irreconcilable  opposites ;  for  one  is  not  truly  man  when 
one  is  a  thief ;  one  degrades  Man  or  ''humanity"  in  him- 
self when  one  steals.  Dropping  out  of  personal  con 
cern,  one  gets  into  philanthropism,  friendliness  to  man, 
which  is  usually  misunderstood  as  if  it  was  a  love  to  men, 
to  each  individual,  while  it  is  nothing  but  a  love  of  Man, 
the  unreal  concept,  the  spook.  It  is  not  toü  ;  avöpcoT  cue 
men,  but  Vox(j)dQ/^»  ^^oi  Man,  that  the  philanthropist 
carries  in  his  heart.  To  be  sure,  he  cares  for  each  indi- 
vidual, but  only  because  he  wants  to  see  his  beloved  ideal 
realized  everywhere. 

So  there  is  nothing  here  of  care  for  me,  you,  us; 
that  would  be  personal  interest,  and  belongs  under  the 
head  of  ''worldly  love."  Philanthropism  is  a  heavenly, 
spiritual,  a — priestly  love.  Man  must  be  restored  in  us, 
even  if  thereby  we  poor  devils  should  come  to  grief.  It 
is  the  same  priestly  principle  as  that  famous  fiat  justitia, 
pereat  mundiis;  man  and  justice  are  ideas,  ghosts,  for 
love  of  which  everything  is  sacrificed;  therefore  the 
priestly  spirits  are  the  "self-sacrificing"  ones. 

He  who  infatuated  with  Man  leaves  persons  out  of 
account  so  far  as  that  infatuation  extends,  and  floats  in 
an  ideal,  sacred  interest.  Man,  you  see,  is  not  a  person, 
but  an  ideal,  a  spook. 

Now,  things  as  different  as  possible  can  belong  to  Man 
and  be  so  regarded.  If  one  finds  Man's  chief  reauire- 
ment  in  piety,  there  arises  relisrious  clericalism:  if  one 
sees  it  in  morality,  then  moral  clericalism  raises  its  head. 
On  this  account  the  priestly  spirits  of  our  day  want  to 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  83 


make  a  ^'religion''  of  everything,  a  ''religion  of  liberty," 
^'religion  of  equality,"  etc.,  and  for  them  every  idea  be- 
comes a  ''sacred  cause,"  e,  g,  even  citizenship,  politics, 
freedom  of  the  press,  trial  by  jury,  etc. 

Now,  what  does  ''unselfishness"  mean  in  this  sense? 
Having  only  an  ideal  interest,  before  which  no  respect  of 
persons  avail ! 

The  stiff  head  of  the  worldly  man  opposes  this,  but 
for  centuries  has  always  been  worsted  at  least  so  far  as 
to  have  to  bend  the  unruly  neck  and  "honor  the  higher 
power";  clericalism  pressed  it  down.  When  the  worldly 
egoist  had  shaken  off  a  higher  power  {e.  g.  the  Old 
Testament  law,  the  Roman  pope,  etc.),  then  at  once  a 
seven  times  higher  one  was  over  him  again,  e.  g.  faith  in 
the  place  of  the  law,  the  transformation  of  all  laymen 
into  divines  in  place  of  the  limited  body  of  clergy,  etc. 
His  experience  was  like  that  of  the  possessed  man  into 
whom  seven  devils  passed  when  he  thought  he  had 
freed  himself  from  one. 

In  the  passage  quoted  above  all  ideality,  etc.,  is 
denied  to  the  middle  class.  It  certainly  schemed  against 
the  ideal  consistency  with  which  Robespierre  wanted  to 
carry  out  the  principle.  The  instinct  of  its  interest  told 
it  that  this  consistency  harmonized  too  little  with  what  its 
mind  was  set  on,  and  that  it  would  be  acting  against 
itself  if  it  were  willing  to  further  the  enthusiasm  for 
principle.  Was  it  to  behave  so  unselfishly  as  to  abandon 
all  its  aims  in  order  to  bring  a  harsh  theory  to  its 
triumph?  It  suits  the  priests  admirably,  to  be  sure,  when 
people  listen  to  their  summons,  "Cast  away  everything 
and  follow  me,"  or  "Sell  all  that  thou  hast  and  give  to 
the  poor,  and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven;  and 
come,  follow  me."  Some  decided  idealists  obey  this  call ; 
but  most  act  like  Ananias  and  Sapphira,  maintaining  a 
behavior  half  clerical  or  religious  and  half  worldly, 
serving  God  and  Mammon. 

I  do  not  blame  the  middle  class  for  not  wanting  to  let 
its  aims  be  frustrated  by  Robespierre,  i,  e.  for  inquiring 


84 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


of  its  egoism  how  far  it  might  give  the  revolutionary 
idea  a  chance.  But  one  might  blame  (if  blame  were  in 
place  here  anyhow)  those  who  let  their  own  interests 
be  frustrated  by  the  interests  of  the  middle  class.  How- 
ever, will  not  they  likew^ise  sooner  or  later  learn  to 
understand  what  is  to  their  advantage?  Aug^^st  Becker 
says:"^  ''To  win  the  producers  (proletarians)  ^  negation 
of  the  traditional  conception  of  right  is  by  no  means 
enough.  Folks  unfortunately  care  little  for  the  theoreti- 
cal victory  of  the  idea.  One  must  demonstrate  to  them 
ad  oculos  how  this  victory  can  be  practically  utilized  in 
life.''  And  (p.  32)  :  ^'You  must  get  hold  of  folks  by 
their  real  interests  if  you  want  to  work  upon  them." 
Immediately  after  this  he  shows  how  a  fine  looseness  of 
morals  is  already  spreading  among  our  peasants,  because 
they  prefer  to  follow  their  real  interests  rather  than  the 
commands  of  morality. 

Because  the  revoluntionary  priests  or  schoolmasters 
«erved  Man,  they  cut  ofif  the  heads  of  men.  The  revo- 
lutionary laymen,  those  outside  the  sacred  circle,  did  not 
feel  any  greater  horror  of  cutting  off  heads,  but  were 
less  anxious  about  the  rights  of  Man  than  about  their 
own. 

How  comes  it,  though,  that  the  egoism  of  those  who 
affirm  personal  interest,  and  always  inquire  of  it,  is  never- 
the  less  forever  succumbing  to  a  priestly  or  schoolmas- 
terly (/  e.  an  ideal)  interest?  Their  person  seems  to  them 
too  small,  too  insignificant — and  is  so  in  fact — to  lay 
claim  to  everything  and  be  able  to  put  itself  completely 
in  force.  There  is  a  sure  sign  of  this  in  their  dividing 
themselves  into  two  persons,  an  eternal  and  a  temporal, 
and  always  caring  either  only  for  the  other,  on  Sunday 
for  the  eternal,  on  the  work-day  for  the  temporal,  in 
prayer  for  the  former,  in  work  for  the  latter.  They  have 
the  priest  in  themselves,  therefore  they  do  not  get  rid  of 
him,  but  hear  themselves  lectured  inwardly  every  Sunday. 

"Volksphilosophie  unserer  Tage,  '  p.  22.  | 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  85 


How  men  have  struggled  and  calculated  to  get  at  a 
solution  regarding  these  dualistic  essences!  Idea  fol- 
lowed upon  idea,  principle  upon  principle,  system  upon 
system,  and  none  knew  how  to  keep  down  permanently 
the  contradiction  of  the  ''worldly"  man,  the  so-called 
''egoist/'  Does  not  this  prove  that  all  those  ideas  were 
too  feeble  to  take  up  my  whole  will  into  themselves  and 
satisfy  it?  They  were  and  remained  hostile  to  me,  even 
if  the  hostility  lay  concealed  for  a  considerable  time.  Will 
it  be  the  same  with  self -ownership?  Is  it  too  only  an 
attempt  at  mediation?  Whatever  principle  I  turned  to, 
it  might  be  to  that  of  reason,  I  always  had  to  turn  away 
from  it  again.  Or  can  I  always  be  rational,  arrange  my 
life  according  to  reason  in  everything?  I  can,  no  doubt, 
strive  after  rationality.  I  can  love  it,  just  as  I  can  also 
love  God  and  every  other  idea.  I  can  be  a  philosopher,  a 
lover  of  wisdom,  as  I  love  God.  But  what  I  love,  what  1 
strive  for,  is  only  in  my  idea,  my  conception,  my 
thoughts ;  it  is  in  my  heart,  my  head,  it  is  in  me  like  the 
heart,  but  it  is  not  I,  I  am  not  it. 

To  the  activity  of  priestly  minds  belongs  especially 
what  one  often  hear?  called  ''moral  influence!' 

Moral  influence  takes  its  start  where  humiliation  be- 
gins ;  yes,  it  is  nothing  else  than  this  humiliation  itself, 
the  breaking  and  bending  of  the  temper*  down  to 
humility, If  I  call  to  some  one  to  run  away  when  a  rock 
is  to  be  blasted,  I  exert  no  moral  influence  by  this 
demand ;  if  I  say  to  a  child  "You  will  go  hungry  if  you 
will  not  eat  what  is  put  on  the  table,"  this  is  not  moral 
influence.  But,  if  I  say  to  it  "You  will  pray,  honor  your 
parents,  respect  the  crucifix,  speak  the  truth,  etc.,  for  this 
belongs  to  man  and  is  man's  calling,"  or  even  "this  is 
God's  will,"  then  moral  influence  is  complete :  then  a  man 
is  to  bend  before  the  calling  of  man,  be  tractable,  become 
humble,  .i^-ive  up  his  will  for  an  alien  one  which  is  set  up 
as  rule  and  law ;  he  is  to  ahase  himself  before  something 


*  [Muth] 


t  [Demuth] 


86 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


higher;  self-abasement.  ''He  that  abaseth  himself  shall 
be  exalted."  Yes,  yes,  children  must  early  be  made  to 
practise  piety,  godliness,  and  propriety ;  a  person  of  good 
breeding  is  one  into  whom  "good  maxims''  have  been 
installed  and  impressed,  poured  in  through  a  funnel, 
thrashed  in  and  preached  in. 

If  one  shrugs  his  shoulders  at  this,  at  once  the  good 
wring  their  hands  despairingly,  and  cry:  "But,  for 
heaven's  sake,  if  one  is  to  give  children  no  good  instruc- 
tion, why^  then  they  will  run  straight  into  the  jaws  of 
sin,  and  become  good-for-nothing  hoodlums !"  Gently, 
you  prophets  of  evil.  Good-for-nothing  in  your  sense 
they  certainly  become :  but  your  sense  happens  to  be  a 
very  good-for-nothing  sense.  The  impudent  lads  will  no 
longer  let  anything  be  whined  and  chattered  into  them  by 
you,  and  will  have  no  sympathy  for  all  the  follies  for 
which  you  have  been  raving  and  driveling  since  the 
memory  of  man  began ;  they  will  abolish  the  law  of 
inheritance,  i,  e.  they  will  not  be  willing  to  inherit  your 
stupidities  as  you  inherited  them  from  your  fathers; 
they  destroy  inherited  sin."^  If  you  command  them, 
"Bend  before  the  Most  High,"  they  will  answer:  "If  he 
wants  to  bend  us,  let  him  come  himself  and  do  it ;  we,  at 
least,  will  not  bend  of  our  own  accord."  And,  if  you 
threaten  them  with  his  wrath  and  his  punishment,  thev 
will  take  it  like  being  tlireatened  with  the  bogie-man.  If 
you  are  no  longer  successful  in  making  them  afraid  of 
ghosts,  then  the  dominion  of  ghosts  is  at  an  end,  and 
nurses'  tales  find  no — faith. 

And  is  it  not  precisely  the  liberals  again  that  press  for 
good  education  and  improvement  of  the  educational 
system?  For  how  could  their  liberalism,  their  "liberty 
within  the  bounds  of  law,"  come  about  without  discipline? 
Even  if  they  do  not  exactly  educate  to  the  fear  of  God, 
yet  thev  demand  the  fear  of  Man  all  the  more  strictly, 
and  awaken  "enthusiasm  for  the  truly  human  calling" 
by  discipline. 

^  [Called  in  English  theology  "original  sin."] 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  87 


A  long  time  passed  away,  in  which  people  were  satis- 
fied with  the  fancy  that  they  had  the  truth,  without  think- 
ing seriously  whether  perhaps  they  themselves  must  be 
true  to  possess  the  truth.  This  time  was  the  Middle  Ages, 
With  the  common- consciousness — i,  e.  the  consciousness 
which  deals  with  things,  that  consciousness  which  has 
receptivity  only  for  things,  or  for  what  is  sensuous  and 
sense-moving — they  thought  to  grasp  what  did  not  deal 
with  things  and  was  not  perceptible  by  the  senses.  As 
one  does  indeed  also  exert  his  eye  to  see  the  remote,  or 
laboriously  exercise  his  hand  till  its  fingers  have  become 
dexterous  enough  to  press  the  keys  correctly,  so  they 
chastened  themselves  in  the  most  manifold  ways,  in  order 
to  become  capable  of  receiving  the  supersensual  wholly 
into  themselves.  But  what  they  chastened  was,  after  all, 
only  the  sensual  man,  the  common  consciousness,  so- 
called  finite  or  objective  thought.  Yet  as  this  thought, 
this  understanding,  which  Luther  decries  under  the  name 
of  reason,  is  incapable  of  comprehending  the  divine,  its 
chastening  contributed  just  as  much  to  the  understanding 
of  the  truth  as  if  one  exercised  the  feet  year  in  and  year 
out  in  dancing,  and  hoped  that  in  this  way  they  would 
finally  learn  to  play  the  flute.  Luther,  with  whom  the 
so-called  Middle  Ages  end,  was  the  first  who  understood 
that  the  man  himself  must  become  other  than  he  was  if 
he  wanted  to  comprehend  truth — must  become  as  true 
as  truth  itself.  Only  he  who  already  has  truth  in  his 
belief,  only  he  who  believes  in  it,  can  become  a  partaker 
of  it ;  i,  e.y  only  the  believer  finds  it  accessible  and  sounds 
its  depths.  Only  that  organ  of  man  which  is  able  to 
blow  can  attain  the  further  capacity  of  flute-playing,  and 
only  that  man  can  become  a  partaker  of  truth  who  has 
the  right  organ  for  it.  He  who  is  capable  of  thinking  only 
what  is  sensuous,  objective,  pertaining  to  things,  figures 
to  himself  in  truth  only  what  pertains  to  things.  But 
truth  is  spirit,  stuff  altogether  inappreciable  by  the  senses 
and  therefore  only  for  the  ''higher  consciousness,"  not 
for  that  which  is  ''earthly-minded. " 


88 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


With  Luther,  accordingly,  dawns  the  perception  that 
truth,  because  it  is  a  thought,  is  only  for  the  thinking 
man.  And  this  is  to  say  that  man  must  henceforth  take 
an  utterly  different  standpoint,  viß.,  the  heavenly,  believ- 
ing, scientific  standpoint,  or  that  of  thought  in  relation 
to  its  object,  the — thought — that  of  mind  in  relation  to 
mind.  Consequently :  only  the  like  apprehend  the  like. 
*'You  are  like  the  spirit  that  you  understand." 

Because  Protestantism  broke  the  mediaeval  hierarchy, 
the  opinion  could  take  root  that  hierarchy  in  general  had 
been  shattered  by  it,  and  could  be  wholly  overlooked  that 
it  was  precisely  a  ''reformation,"  and  so  a  reinvigoration 
of  the  antiquated  hierarchy.  That  mediaeval  hierarchy 
had  been  only  a  weakly  one,  as  it  had  to  let  all  possible 
barbarism  of  unsanctified  things  run  on  uncoerced  beside 
it,  and  it  was  the  Reformation  that  first  steeled  the  power 
of  hierarchy.  If  Bruno  Bauer  thinks  :j  ''As  the  Refor- 
mation was  mainly  the  abstract  rending  of  the  religious 
principle  from  art.  State,  and  science,  and  so  its  libera- 
tion from  those  powers  with  which  it  had  joined  itself 
in  the  antiquity  of  the  church  and  in  the  hierarchy  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  so  too  the  theological  and  ecclesiastical 
movements  which  proceeded  from  the  Reformation  are 
only  the  consistent  carrying  out  of  this  abstraction  of  the 
religious  principle  from  the  other  powers  of  humanity," 
I  regard  precisely  the  opposite  as  correct,  and  think  that 
the  dominion  of  spirits,  or  freedom  of  mind  (which 
comes  to  the  same  thing),  was  never  before  so  all-em- 
bracing and  all  powerful,  because  the  present  one,  instead 
of  rending  the  religious  principle  from  art.  State,  and 
science,  lifted  the  latter  altogether  out  of  secularity  into 
the  ''realm  of  spirit"  and  made  them  religious. 

Luther  and  Descartes  have  been  appropriately  put  side 
by  side  in  their  "He  who  believes  is  a  God"  and  "I  think, 
therefore  I  am"  (cogito,  ergo  sum),  Man's  heaven  is 
thought — mind.    Everything  can  be  wrested  from  him. 


^  [Goethe,  "Fiaust."] 


t  ''Anekdota;'  II,  152. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  89 


except  faith.  Particular  faith,  Hke  faith  in  Zeus,  Astarte, 
Jehovah,  Allah,  etc.,  may  be  destroyed,  but  faith  itself 
is  indestructible.  In  thought  is  freedom.  What  I  need 
and  what  I  hunger  for  is  no  longer  granted  to  me  by  any 
grace,  by  the  Virgin  Mary,  by  intercession  of  the  saints, 
or  by  the  binding  and  loosing  church,  but  I  procure  it 
for  myself.  In  short,  my  being  (the  sum)  is  a  living  in 
the  heaven  of  thought,  of  mind,  a  cogitare.  But  I  my- 
self am  nothing  else  than  mind,  thinking  mind  (accord- 
ing to  Descartes),  believing  mind  (according  to 
Luther).  My  body  I  am  not;  my  flesh  may  suffer  from 
appetites  or  pains.  I  am  not  my  flesh,  but  /  am  mind, 
only  mind. 

This  thought  runs  through  the  history  of  the  Refor- 
mation till  to-day. 

Only  by  the  more  modern  philosophy  since  Descartes 
has  a  serious  efifort  been  made  to  bring  Christianity  to 
complete  efficacy,  by  exalting  the  ''scientific  conscious- 
ness'' to  be  the  only  true  and  valid  one.  Hence  it  begins 
with  absolute  doubt^  diibitare,  with  grinding  common  con- 
sciousness to  atoms,  with  turning  away  from  ever3rthing 
that  ''mind,"  "thought,''  does  not  legitimate.  To  it  Nature 
counts  for  nothing;  the  opinion  of  men,  their  "human 
precepts,"  for  nothing:  and  it  does  not  rest  till  it  has 
brought  reason  into  everything,  and  can  say  "The  real 
is  the  rational,  and  only  the  rational  is  the  real."  Thus 
it  has  at  last  brought  mind,  reason,  to  victory ;  and  every- 
thing is  mind,  because  everything  is  rational,  because  all 
nature,  as  well  as  even  the  perversest  opinions  of  men, 
contains  reason;  for  "all  must  serve  for  the  best,"  i.  e. 
lead  to  the  victory  of  reason. 

Descarte's  dubitare  contains  the  decided  statement  that 
only  cogitare,  thought,  mind — is.  A  complete  break  with 
"common"  consciousness,  which  ascribes  reality  to  irra- 
tional things !  Only  the  rational  is,  only  mind  is !  This 
is  the  principle  of  modern  philosophy,  the  genuine 
Christian  principle.    Descartes  in  his  own  time  discrim- 


90  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


inated  the  body  sharply  from  the  mind,  and  "the  spirit 
'tis  that  builds  itself  the  body/'  says  Goethe. 

But  this  philosophy  itself,  Christian  philosophy,  still  i 
does  not  get  rid  of  the  rational,  and  therefore  inveighs  I 
against  the  "merely  subjective,"  against  ''fancies,  fortu- 
ities, arbitrariness,"  etc.  What  it  wants  is  that  the  divine 
should  become  visible  in  everything,  and  all  consciousness 
become  a  knowing  of  the  divine,  and  man  behold  God 
everywhere ;  but  God  never  is,  without  the  devil. 

For  this  very  reason  the  name  of  philosopher  is  not 
to  be  given  to  him  who  has  indeed  open  eyes  for  the 
things  of  the  world,  a  clear  and  undazzled  gaze,  a  cor- 
rect judgment  about  the  world,  but  who  sees  in  the 
world  just  the  world,  in  objects  only  objects,  and,  in 
short,  everything  prosaically  as  it  is;  but  he  alone  is  a 
philosopher  who  sees,  and  points  out  or  demonstrates, 
heaven  in  the  world,  the  supernal  in  the  earthly,  the — 
divine  in  the  mundane.  The  former  may  be  ever  so  wise, 
there  is  no  getting  away  from  this: 

What  wise  men  see  not  by  their  wisdom's  art 
Is  practised  simply  by  a  childlike  heart.* 

It  takes  this  childlike  heart,  this  eye  for  the  divine,  to 
make  a  philosopher.  The  first-named  man  has  only  a 
"common"  consciousness,  but  he  who  knows  the  divine, 
and  knows  how  to  tell  it,  has  a  "scientific"  one.  On 
this  ground  Bacon  was  turned  out  of  the  realm  of  philoso- 
phers. And  certainly  what  is  called  English  philosophy 
seems  to  have  got  no  further  than  to  the  discoveries  of 
so-called  "clear  heads,"  such  as  Bacon  and  Hume.  The 
English  did  not  know  how  to  exalt  the  simplicity  of  the 
childlike  heart  to  philosophic  significance,  did  not  know 
how  to  make — ^philosophers  out  of  childlike  hearts.  This 
is  as  much  as  to  say,  their  philosophy  was  not  able  to 
become  theological  or  theology,  and  yet  it  is  onlv  as 
theology  that  it  can  really  live  itself  out,  complete  itself. 
The  field  of  its  battle  to  the  death  is  in  theology.  Bacon 


*  [Schiller,  *'Die  Worte  des  Glavhms'''' 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  91 


did  not  trouble  himself  about  theological  questions  and 
cardinal  points. 

Cognition  has  its  object  in  life.  German  thought  seeks, 
more  than  that  of  others,  to  reach  the  beginnings  and 
fountain-heads  of  life,  and  sees  no  life  till  it  sees  it  in 
cognition  itself.  Descarte's  cogito,  ergo  sum  has  the 
meaning  ''One  lives  only  when  one  thinks."  Thinking 
life  is  called  ''intellectual  life'M  Only  mind  lives,  its 
life  is  the  true  life.  Then,  just  so  in  nature  only  the 
"eternal  laws,''  the  mind  or  the  reason  of  nature,  are  its 
true  life.  In  man,  as  in  nature,  only  the  thought  lives; 
everything  else  is  dead !  To  this  abstraction,  to  the  life  of 
generalities  or  of  that  which  is  lifeless,  the  history  of 
mind  had  to  come.  God,  who  is  spirit,  alone  lives.  Noth- 
mg  lives  but  the  ghost. 

How  can  one  try  to  assert  of  modern  philosophy  or 
modern  times  that  they  have  reached  freedom,  since  they 
have  not  freed  us  from  the  power  of  objectivity?  Or 
am  I  perhaps  free  from  a  despot  when  I  am  not  afraid  of 
the  personal  potentate,  to  be  sure,  but  of  evÄ^y  infraction 
of  the  loving  reverence  which  I  fancy  I  owe  him?  The 
case  is  the  same  with  modern  times.  They  only  changed 
the  existing  objects,  the  real  ruler,  etc.,  into  conceived 
objects,  i.  e.  into  ideas,  before  which  the  old  respect  not 
only  was  not  lost,  but  increased  in  intensity.  Even  if 
people  snapped  their  fingers  at  God  and  the  devil  in  their 
former  crass  reality,  people  devoted  only  the  greater 
attention  to  their  ideas.  "They  are  rid  of  the  Evil  One; 
evil  is  left.'''''  The  decision  having  once  been  made  not 
to  let  oneself  be  imposed  on  any  longer  by  the  extant  and 
palpable,  little  scruple  was  felt  about  revolting  against 
the  existing  State  or  overturning  the  existing  laws ;  but 
to  sin  against  the  idea  of  the  State,  not  to  submit  to  the 
idea  of  law,  who  would  have  dared  that?  So  one 
remained  a  "citizen"  and  a  "law-respecting,"  loyal  man; 


*  [Parodied  from  the  words  of  Mephistopheles  in  the  witch's 
kitchen  in  "Faust."] 


92  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


yes,  one  seemed  to  himself  to  be  only  so  much  more  law- 
respecting,  the  more  rationalistically  one  abrogated  the 
former  defective  law  in  order  to  do  homage  to  the  "spirit 
of  the  law."  In  all  this  the  objects  had  only  suffered  a 
change  of  form ;  they  had  remained  in  their  prepollence 
and  pre-eminence;  in  short,  one  was  still  involved  in 
obedience  and  possessedness,  lived  in  reflection,  and  had 
an  object  on  which  one  reflected,  which  one  respected,  and 
before  which  one  felt  reverence  and  fear.  One  had 
done  nothing  but  transform  the  things  into  conceptions 
of  the  things,  into  thoughts  and  ideas,  whereby  one's 
dependence  became  all  the  more  intimate  and  indissoluble. 
So,  e,  g,y  it  is  not  hard  to  emancipate  oneself  from  the 
commands  of  parents,  or  to  set  aside  the  admonitions  of 
uncle  and  aunt,  the  entreaties  of  brother  and  sister;  but 
the  renounced  obedience  easily  gets  into  one's  conscience, 
and  the  less  one  does  give  way  to  the  individual  demands, 
because  he  rationalistically,  by  his  own  reason,  recognizes 
them  to  be  unreasonable,  so  much  the  more  conscientious- 
ly does  he  hold  fast  to  filial  piety  and  family  love,  and  so 
much  the  harder  is  it  for  him  to  forgive  himself  a  tres- 
pass against  the  conception  which  he  has  formed  of  fam- 
ily love  and  of  filial  duty.  Released  from  dependence  as 
regards  the  existing  family,  one  falls  into  the  more  bind- 
ing dependence  on  the  idea  of  the  family ;  one  io  ruled  by 
the  spirit  of  the  family.  The  family  consisting  of  John, 
Maggie,  etc.,  whose  dominion  has  become  powerless  is 
only  internalized,  being  left  as  ''family"  in  general,  to 
which  one  just  applies  the  old  saying,  ''We  must  obey  God 
rather  than  man,"  whose  significance  here  is  this :  "I  can- 
not, to  be  sure,  accommodate  myself  to  your  senseless 
requirements,  but,  as  my  'family,'  you  still  remain  the  ob- 
ject of  my  love  and  care  for  "the  family"  is  a  sacred  idea, 
which  the  individual  must  never  offend  against. — And 
this  family  internalized  and  desensualized  into  a  thought, 
a  conception,  now  ranks  as  the  "sacred,"  whose  despotism 
is  tenfold  more  grievous  because  it  makes  a  racket  in  my 
conscience.  This  despotism  is  broken  only  when  the  con- 
ception, family,  also  becomes  a  nothing  to  me.  The 


*      MEN  OF  THE  DLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  93 


Christian  dicta,  ''Woman,  what  have  I  to  do  with  thee?''* 
*'I  am  come  to  stir  up  a  man  against  his  father,  and  a 
daughter  against  her  mother,"t  and  others,  are  accom- 
panied by  something  that  refers  us  to  the  heavenly  or 
true  family,  and  mean  no  more  than  the  State's  demand, 
in  case  of  a  collision  between  it  and  the  family,  that  we 
obey  its  commands. 

The  case  of  morality  is  like  that  of  the  family.  Many 
a  man  renounces  morals,  but  with  great  difficulty  the  con-^ 
ception,  ''morality."  Morality  is  the  "idea"  of  morals,, 
their  intellectual  power,  their  power  over  the  conscience ; 
on  the  other  hand,  morals  are  too  material  to  rule  the 
mind,  and  do  not  fetter  an  "intellectual"  man ;  a  so-called 
independent,  a  "freethinker." 

The  Protestant  may  put  it  as  he  will,  the  "holyf 
Scripture,"  the  "Word  of  God,"  still  remains  sacred§  for 
him.  He  for  whom  this  is  no  longer  "holy"  has  ceased 
to — be  a  Protestant.  But  herewith  what  is  "ordained" 
in  it,  the  public  authorities  appointed  by  God,  etc.,  also 
remain  sacred  for  him.  For  him  these  things  remain 
indissoluble,  unapprochable,  "raised  above  all  doubt" ; 
and,  as  doubt,  which  in  practice  becomes  a  buffeting, 
is  what  is  most  man's  own,  these  things  remain  "raised" 
above  himself.  He  who  cannot  get  away  from  them  will — 
believe;  for  to  believe  in  them  is  to  be  hound  to  them, 
indissoluble,  unapproachable,  "raised  above  all  doubt"; 
Through  the  fact  that  in  Protestantism  the  faith  became  a 
more  inward  faith,  the  servitude  has  also  become  a  more 
inward  servitude;  one  has  taken  those  sanctities  up  into 
himself,  entwined  them  with  all  his  thoughts  and  en- 
deavors, made  them  a  ''matter  of  conscience construct- 
ed out  of  them  a  ''sacred  duty''  for  himself.  Therefore 
what  the  Protestant's  conscience  cannot  get  away  from 
is  sacred  to  him,  and  conscientiousness  most  clearly  de- 
signates his  character. 

Protestantism  has  actually  put  a  man  in  the  position 
of  a  country  governed  by  secret  police.  The  spy  and 
eavesdropper,  "conscience,"  watches  over  every  motion 


-"John  2,  4.        tMatt.  10,  35.      t  [heilig]       §  [heilig\ 


94  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


of  the  mind,  and  all  thought,  and  action  is  for  it  a  "mat- 
ter of  conscience/'  i,  e,  police  business.  This  tearing 
apart  of  man  into  ^'natural  impulse''  and  ^^conscience" 
(inner  populace  and  inner  police)  is  what  constitutes  the 
Protestant.  The  reason  of  the  Bible  (in  place  of  the 
Catholic  ''reason  of  the  church")  ranks  as  sacred,  and 
this  feeling  and  consciousness  that  the  word  of  the  Bible 
is  sacred  is  called — conscience.  With  this,  then,  sacred- 
ness  is  "laid  upon  one's  conscience."  If  one  does  not 
free  himself  from  conscience,  the  consciousness  of  the 
sacred,  he  may  act  unconscientiously  indeed,  but  never 
consciencelessly. 

The  Catholic  finds  himself  satisfied  when  he  fulfils 
the  command;  the  Protestant  acts  according  to  his  "best 
judgment  and  conscience."  For  the  Catholic  is  only  a 
layman;  the  Protestant  is  himself  a  clergyman."^  Just 
this  is  the  progress  of  the  Reformation  period  beyond 
the  Middle  Ages,  and  at  the  same  time  its  curse — that 
the  spiritual  became  complete. 

What  else  was  the  Jesuit  moral  philosophy  than  a 
continuation  of  the  sale  of  indulgences?  only  that  the 
man  who  was  relieved  of  his  burden  of  sin  now  gained 
also  an  insight  into  the  remission  of  sins,  and  convinced 
himself  how  really  his  sin  was  taken  from  him,  since 
in  this  or  that  particular  case  (Casuists)  it  was  so  clearly 
no  sin  at  all  that  he  committed.  The  sale  of  indulgences 
had  made  all  sins  and  transgressions  permissible,  and 
silenced  every  movement  of  conscience.  All  sensuality 
might  hold  sway,  if  it  was  only  purchased  from  the 
church.  This  favoring  of  sensuality  was  continued  by 
the  Jesuits,  while  the  strictly  moral,  dark,  fanatical, 
repentant,  contrite,  praying*  Protestants  (as  the  tru^ 
completers  of  Christianity,  to  be  sure)  acknowledged 
only  the  intellectual  and  spiritual  man.  Catholicism, 
especially  the  Jesuits,  gave  aid  to  egoism  in  this  way, 
found  involuntary  and  unconscious  adherents  within 
Protestantism  itself,  and  saved  us  from  the  subversion 


*  [Geistlicher,  literally  "spiritual  man.'*] 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  95 


and  extinction  of  sensuality.  Nevertheless  the  Protestant 
spirit  spreads  its  dominion  farther  and  farther;  and,  as, 
beside  it  the  ^'divine,"  the  Jesuit  spirit  represents  only 
the  ''diabolic"  which  is  inseparable  from  everything  di- 
vine, the  latter  can  never  assert  itself  alone,  but  must 
look  on  and  see  how  in  France,  e,  g.,  the  Philistinism  of 
Protestantism  wins  at  last,  and  mind  is  on  top. 

Protestantism  is  usually  complimented  on  having 
brought  the  mundane  into  repute  again,  e,  g,  marriage, 
the  State,  etc.  But  the  mundane  itself  as  mundane,  the 
secular,  is  even  more  indifferent  to  it  than  to  Catholicism, 
which  lets  the  profane  world  stand,  yes,  and  relishes  its 
pleasures,  while  the  rational,  consistent  Protestant  sets 
simply  by  hallowing  it.  So  marriage  has  been  depxived 
of  its  naturalness  by_becommg  sacred,  not  in  the  sense 
of  the  Catholic  sacrament,  where  it  only  receives  its 
consecration  from  the  church  and  so  is  unholy  at  bottom, 
but  in  the  sense  of  being  something  sacred  in  itself  to 
begin  with,  a  sacred  relation.  Just  so  the  State,  etc. 
Formerly  the  pope  gave  consecration  and  his  blessing  to 
it  and  its  princes;  now  the  State  is  intrinsically  sacred, 
majesty  is  sacred  without  needing  the  priest's  blessing. 
The  order  of  nature,  or  natural  law,  was  altogether 
hallowed  as  "God's  ordinance."  Hence  it  is  said  e,  g. 
in  the  Augsburg  Confession,  Art.  11:  ''So  now  we  rea- 
sonably abide  by  the  saying,  as  the  jurisconsults  have 
wisely  and  rightly  said :  that  man  and  woman  should  be 
with  each  other  is  a  natural  law.  Now,  if  it  is  a  natural 
law,  then  it  is  God's  ordinance,  therefore  implanted  in 
nature,  and  therefore  a  divine  law  also."  And  is  ittany- 
thing  more  than  Protestantism  brought  up  to  date,  when 
Feuerbach  pronounces  moral  relations  sacred,  not  as 
God's  ordinance  indeed,  but,  instead,  for  the  sake  of 
the  spirit  that  dwells  in  them?  "But  marriage — as  a  free 
alliance  of  love,  of  course — is  sacred  of  itself,  by  the 
nature  of  the  union  that  is  formed  here.  That  marriage 
alone  is  a  religious  one  that  is  a  true  one,  that  corre- 
spond to  the  essense  of  marriage,  love.  And  so  it  is 
with  all  moral  relations.   They  are  ethical,  are  cultivated 


96 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


with  a  moral  mind,  only  where  they  rank  as  religious  of 
themselves.  True  friendship  is  only  where  the  limits 
of  friendship  are  preserved  with  religious  conscientious- 
ness, with  the  same  conscientiousness  with  which  the 
believer  guards  the  dignity  of  his  God.  Friendship  is 
and  must  be  sacred  for  you,  and  property,  and  marriage 
and  the  good  of  every  man,  but  sacred  in  and  of 
itself:'^ 

That  is  a  very  essential  consideration.  In  Catholicism 
the  mundane  can  indeed  be  consecrated  or  hallowed,  but 
it  is  not  sacred  without  this  priestly  blessing ;  in  Protes- 
tantism, on  the  contrary,  mundane  relations  are  sacred 
of  themselves,  sacred  by  their  mere  existence.  The 
Jesuit  maxim,  ''the  end  hallows  the  means,''  corresponds 
precisely  to  the  consecration  by  which  sanctity  is  be- 
stowed. No  means  are  holy  or  unholy  in  themselves, 
but  their  relation  to  the  church,  their  use  for  the  church, 
hallows  the  means.  Regicide  was  named  as  such;  if 
it  was  committed  for  the  church's  behoof,  it  could  be 
certain  of  being  hallowed  by  the  church,  even  if  the 
hallowing  was  not  openly  pronounced.  To  the  Protestant, 
majesty  ranks  as  sacred;  to  the  Catholic  only  that  maj- 
esty which  is  consecrated  by  the  pontiff  can  rank  as  such ; 
and  it  does  rank  as  such  to  him  only  because  the  pope, 
even  though  it  be  without  a  special  act,  confers  this 
sacredness  on  it  once  for  all.  If  he  retracted  his  con- 
secration, the  king  would  be  left  only  a  ''man  of  the  world 
or  layman,'^  an  "unconsecrated"  man,  to  the  Catholic. 

If  the  Protestant  seeks  to  discover  a  sacredness  in 
the  sensual  itself,  that  he  miay  be  linked  only  to  what  is 
holy>  the  Catholic  strives  rather  to  banish  the  sensual 
from  himself  into  a  separate  domain,  where  it,  like  the 
rest  of  nature,  keeps  its  value  for  itself.  The  Catholic' 
church  eliminated  mundane  marriage  from  its  consecrated 
order,  and  withdrew  those  who  were  its  own  from  the 
mundane  family  ;  the  Protestant  church  declared  marriage 
and  family  ties  to  be  holy,  and  therefore  not  unsuitable 
for  its  clergymen. 

*  "Essence  of  Christianity,"  p.  403. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  97 


A  Jesuit  may,  as  a  good  Catholic,  hallow  everything. 
He  needs  only  e,  g,  to  say  to  himself:  'T  as  a  priest  am 
necessary  to  the  churchy  but  serve  it  more  zealously  when 
I  appease  my  desires  properly ;  consequently  I  will  seduce 
this  girl,  have  my  enemy  there  poisoned,  etc. ;  my  end  is 
holy  because  it  is  a  priest's,  consequently  it  hallows  the 
means."  For  in  the  end  it  is  still  done  for  the  benefit  of 
the  church.  Why  should  the  Catholic  priest  shrink  from 
handing  Emperor  Henry  VH  the  poisoned  wafer  for  the 
— church's  welfare? 

The  genuinely — churchly  Protestants  inveighed  against 
every  ''innocent  pleasure/'  because  only  the  sacred,  the 
spiritual,  could  be  innocent  What  they  could  not  point 
out  the  holy  spirit  in  the  Protestants  had  to  reject — 
dancing,  the  theatre,  ostentation  {e,  g.  in  the  church),  and 
the  like. 

Compared  with  this  puritanical  Calvanism,  Luther- 
anism  is  again  more  on  the  religious  i,  e.  spiritual,  track 
— is  more  radical.  For  the  former  excludes  at  once 
a  great  number  of  things  as  sensual  and  worldly, 
and  purifies  the  church ;  Lutheranism,  on  the  contrary, 
tries  to  bring  spirit  into  all  things  as  far  as  possible,  to 
recognize  the  holy  spirit  as  an  essense  in  everything,  and 
so  to  hallow  everything  worldly.  ("No  one  can  forbid  a 
kiss  in  honor."  The  spirit  of  honor  hallows  it.)  Hence 
it  was  that  the  Lutheran  Hegel  (he  declares  himself  such 
in  some  passage  or  other :  he  "wants  to  remain  a  Luther- 
an") was  completely  successful  in  carrying  the  idea 
through  everything.  In  everything  there  is  reason,  i.  e, 
holy  spirit,  or  "the  real  is  rational."  For  the  real  is  in 
fact  everything,  as  in  each  thing,  e.  g.  each  lie,  the  truth 
can  be  detected :  there  is  no  absolute  lie,  no  absolute  evil, 
and  the  like. 

Great  "works  of  mind"  were  created  almost  solely  by 
Protestants,  as  they  alone  were  the  true  disciples  and 
consummators  of  mind. 


How  little  man  is  able  to  control!  He  must  let  the 
sun  run  its  course,  the,  sea  roll  its  waves,  the  mountains 


98  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


rise  to  heaven.  Thus  he  stands  powerless  before  the 
uncontrollable.  Can  he  keep  off  the  impression  that  he 
is  helpless  against  this  gigantic  world  ?  It  is  a  fixed  law 
to  which  he  must  submit,  it  determines  his  fate.  Now, 
what  did  pre-Christian  humanity  work  toward  ?  Toward 
getting  rid  of  the  irruptions  of  the  destinies,  not  letting 
oneself  be  vexed  by  them.  The  Stoics  attained  this  in 
apathy,  declaring  the  attacks  of  nature  indifferent,  and 
not  letting  themselves  be  affected  by  them.  Horace  utters 
the  famous  Nil  admirari,  by  which  he  likewise  announces 
the  indifference  of  the  other,  the  world;  it  is  not  to 
influence  us,  not  to  arouse  our  astonishment.  And  that 
impavidum  ferient  ruinae  expresses  the  very  same  im- 
perturbability  as  Ps.  46,  3 :  ''We  do  not  fear,  though  the 
earth  should  perish."  In  all  this  there  is  room  made  for 
the  Christian  proposition  that  the  world  is  empty,  for 
the  Christian  contempt  of  the  world. 

The  imperturbable  spirit  of  ''the  wise  man,"  with 
which  the  old  world  worked  to  prepare  its  end,  now 
underwent  an  inner  perturbation  against  which  no  atar- 
axy,  no.  Stoic  courage,  was  able  to  protect  it.  The  spirit, 
secured  against  all  influence  of  the  world,  insensible  to 
its  shocks  and  exalted  above  its  attacks,  admiring»nothing, 
not  to  be  disconcerted  by  any  downfall  of  the  world- 
foamed  over  irrepressibly  again,  because  gases  (spirits) 
were  evolved  in  its  own  interior,  and,  after  the  mechanical 
shock  that  comes  from  without  had  become  ineffective, 
chemical  tensions,  that  agitate  within,  began  their  wonder- 
ful play. 

In  fact,  ancient  history  ends  with  this — ^that  /  have 
struggled  till  I  won  my  ownership  of  the  world,  "All 
things  have  been  delivered  to  me  by  my  Father"  (Matt> 
11.  27).  It  has  ceased  to  be  overpowering,  unapproach- 
able, sacred,  divine,  etc.,  for  me ;  it  is  undeißed,  and  now 
I  treat  it  so  entirely  as  I  please  that,  if  I  cared,  I  could 
exert  on  it  all  miracle-working  power,  i.  e,  power  of 
mind — remove  mountains,  command  mulberry  trees  to 
tear  themselves  up  and  transplant  themselves  into  the  sea 
(Luke  17.  6),  and  do  everything  possible,  i,  e.  thinkable: 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  99 


''All  things  are  possible  to  him  who  ibelieves/'"^  I  am  the 
lord  of  the  world,  mine  is  the  ''gloryf''\  The  world 
has  become  prosaic,  for  the  divine  has  vanished  from  it ; 
it  is  my  property,  which  I  dispose  of  as  I  (to  wit,  the 
mind)  choose. 

When  I  had  exalted  myself  to  be  the  owner  of  the 
world,  egoism  had  won  its  first  complete  victory,  had 
vanquished  the  world,  had  become  worldless,  and  put 
the  acquisitions  of  a  long  age  under  lock  and  key. 

The  first  property,  the  first  ''glory,''  has  been  ac- 
quired ! 

But  the  lord  of  the  world  is  not  yet  lord  of  his 
thoughts,  his  feelings,  his  will;  he  is  not  lord  and 
owner  of  the  spirit,  for  the  spirit  is  still  sacred,  the 
"Holy  Spirit,"  and  the  "worldless"  Christian  is  not 
able  to  become  "godless."  li  the  ancient  struggle  was« 
a  struggle  against  the  world,  the  mediaeval  (Christian)! 
struggle  is  a  struggle  against  self,  the  mind;  the  for- 
mer against  the  outer  world,  the  latter  against  the  in- 
ner world.  The  mediaeval  man  is  the  man  "whose  gaze 
IS  turned  inward,"  the  thinking,  meditative  man. 

All  wisdom  of  the  ancients  is  the  science  of  the 
world,  all  wisdom  of  the  moderns  is  the  science  of  God. 

The  heathen  (Jews  included)  got  through  with  the 
world;  but  now  the  thing  was  to  get  through  with 
self,  the  spirit,  too ;  i.  e,  to  become  spiritless  or  godless. 

For  almost  two  thousand  years  we  have  been  work- 
ing at  subjecting  the  Holy  Spirit  to  ourselves,  and  little 
by  little  we  have  torn  off  and  trodden  under  foot  many 
bits  of  sacredness:  but  the  gigantic  opponent  is  con- 
stantly rising  anew  under  a  changed  form  and  name. 
The  spirit  has  not  yet  lost  its  divinity,  its  holiness,  its 
sacredness.  To  be  sure,  it  has  long  ceased  to  flutter 
over  our  heads  as  a  dove ;  to  be  sure,  it  no  longer  glad- 
dens its  saints  alone,  but  lets  itself  be  taught  by  the 


*  Mark  9,  23. 

t  [Herrlichkeit,  which,  according  to  its  derivation,  means  lord- 
liness."] 


100 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


laity  too,  etc. ;  but  as  spirit  of  humanity,  as  spirit  of 

Man,  it  remains  still  an  alien  spirit  to  me  or  you,  still 
far  from  becoming  our  unrestricted  property,  which  we 
dispose  of  at  our  pleasure.  However,  one  thing  cer- 
tainly happened,  and  visibly  guided  the  progress  of  post- 
Christian  history ;  this  one  thing  was  the  endeavor  to 
make  the  Holy  Spirit  more  hitman,  and  bring  it  nearer 
to  men,  or  men  to  it.  Through  this  it  came  about  that 
at  last  it  could  be  conceived  as  the  "spirit  of  human- 
ity,'' and,  under  different  expressions  like  ''idea  of  hu- 
manity, mankind,  humaneness,  general  philanthropy," 
etc.,  appeared  more  attractive,  more  familiar  and  more 
accessible. 

Would  not  one  think  that  now  everybody  could 
possess  the  Holy  Spirit,  take  up  into  himself  the  idea 
of  humanity,  bring  mankind  to  form  and  existence  in 
himself? 

No,  the  spirit  is  not  stripped  of  its  holiness  and 
robbed  of  its  unapproachableness,  is  not  accessible  to 
us,  not  our  property;  for  the  spirit  of  humanity  is  not 
my  spirit.  My  ideal  it  may  be,  and  as  a  thought  I 
call  it  mine ;  the  thought  of  humanity  is  my  property, 
and  I  prove  this  sufficiently  by  propounding  it  quite  ac- 
cording to  my  views,  and,  shaping  it  to-day  so,  to- 
morrow otherwise ;  we  represent  it  to  ourselves  in  the 
most  manifold  ways.  But  it  is  at  the  same  time  an 
entail,  which  I  cannot  alienate  nor  get  rid  of. 

Among  many  transformations,  the  Holy  Spirit  be- 
came in  time  the  ''absolute  idea/'  which  again  in  mani- 
fold refractions  split  into  the  different  ideas  of  phil- 
anthropy, reasonableness,  civic  virtue,  etc. 

But  can  I  call  the  idea  my  property  if  it  is  the  idea 
of  humanity,  and  can  I  consider  the  Spirit  as  van- 
quished if  I  am  to  serve  it,  "sacrifice  myself"  to  it? 
Antiquity,  at  its  close,  had  gained  its  ownership  of  the 
world  only  when  it  had  broken  the  world's  overpower- 
ingness  and  "divinity,"  recognized  the  world's  power- 
lessness  and  "vanity." 

The   case   with    regard   to   the   spirit  corresponds. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  101 


When  I  have  degraded  it  to  a  spook  and  its  control 
over  me  to  a  cranky  notion,  then  it  is  to  be  looked  upon 
as  having  lost  its  sacredness,  its  holiness,  its  divinity, 
and  then  I  use  it,  a  one  uses  nature  at  pleasure  without 
scruple. 

The  ''nature  of  the  case,"  the  "concept  of  the  rela- 
tionship,'' is  to  guide  me  in  dealing  with  the  case  or 
in  contracting  the  relation.  As  if  a  concept  of  the 
case  existed  on  its  own  account,  and  was  not  rather 
the  concept  that  one  forms  of  the  case!  As  if  a  rela- 
tion which  we  enter  into  was  not,  by  the  uniqueness  of 
those  who  enter  into  it,  itself  unique!  As  if  it  de- 
pended on  how  others  stamp  it!  But,  as  people  sepa- 
rated the  ''essence  of  Man"  from  the  real  man,  and 
judged  the  latter  by  the  former,  so  they  also  separate 
his  action  from  him,  and  appraise  it  by  "human  value." 
Concepts  are  to  decide  everywhere,  concepts  to  regu- 
late life,  concepts  to  rule.  This  is.  the  religious  world, 
to  which  Hegel  gave  a  systematic  expression,  bringing 
method  into  the  nonsense  and  completingf  the  con- 
ceptual precepts  into  a  rounded,  firmly-based  dogmatic. 
Everything  is  sung  according  to  concepts,  and  the  real 
man,  i.  e.  I,  am  compelled  to  live  according  to  these 
conceptual  laws.  Can  there  be  a  more  grievous  do- 
minion of  law,  and  did  not  Christianity  confess  at  the 
very  beginning  that  it  meant  only  to  draw  Judaism's 
dominion  of  law  tighter?  ("Not  a  letter  of  the  law 
shall  be  lost!") 

Liberalism  simply  brought  other  concepts  on  the  car- 
pet, vi::.,  human  instead  of  divine,  political  instead  of 
ecclesiastical,  "scientific"  instead  of  doctrinal,  or,  more 
generally,  real  concepts  and  eternal  laws  instead  of 
^'crude  dogmas"  and  precepts. 

Now  nothing  but  mind  rules  in  the  world.  An  in- 
numerable multitude  of  concepts  buzz  about  in  peo- 
ple's heads,  and  what  are  those  doing  who  endeavor  to 
get  further?  Thev  are  negating  these  concepts  to  put 
new  ones  in  their  place!  They  are  saying:  "You 
form  a  false  concept  of  right,  of  the  State,  of  man,  of 


102 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


liberty,  of  truth,  of  marriage,  etc. ;  the  concept  of  right, 
etc.,  is  rather  that  one  which  we  now  set  up."  Thus  the 
confusion  of  concepts  moves  forward. 

The  history  of  the  world  has  dealt  cruelly  with  us. 
and  the  spirit  has  obtained  an  almighty  power.  You 
must  have  regard  for  my  miserable  shoes,  which  could 
protect  your  naked  foot,  my  salt,  by  which  your  pota- 
toes would  become  palatable,  and  my  3tate-carriag'e, 
whose  possession  would  relieve  you  of  all  need  at  once ; 
you  must  not  reach  out  after  them.  Man  is  to  recog- 
nize the  independence  of  all  these  an^  innumerable  other 
things ;  they  are  to  rank  in  his  mind  as  something  that 
cannot  be  seized  or  approached,  are  to  be  kept  away 
from  him.  He  must  have  regard  for  it,  respect  it;  woe 
to  him  if  he  stretches  out  his  fingers  desirously ;  we  call 
that  ''being  light-fingered 

How  beggarly  little  is  left  us,  yes,  how  really  noth- 
ing! Everything  has  been  removed,  we  must  not  ven- 
ture on  anything  unless  it  its  given  us;  we  continue  to 
live  only  by  the  grace  of  the  giver.  You  must  not  pick 
up  a  pin,  unless  indeed  you  have  got  leave  to  do  so. 
And  got  it  from  whom?  From  respect!  Only  when 
this  lets  you  have  it  as  property,  only  when  you  can 
respect  it  as  property,  only  then  you  may  take  it.  And 
again,  you  are  not  to  conceive  a  thought,  speak  a  syllable, 
commit  an  action,  that  should  have  their  warrant  in  you 
alone,  instead  of  receiving  it  from  morality  or  reason 
or  humanity.  Happy  unconstraint  of  the  desirous  man, 
how  mercilessly  people  have  tried  to  slay  you  on  the 
altar  of  constraint! 

But  around  the  altar  rise  the  arches  of  a  church, 
and  its  walls  keep  moving  further  and  further  out. 
What  they  enclose  is — sacred.  You  can  no  longer  get 
to  it,  no  longer  touch  it.  Shrieking  with  the  hunger 
that  devours  you,  you  wander  round  about  these  walls 
in  search  of  the  little  that  is  profane,  and  the  circles 
of  your  course  keep  growing  more  and  more  extended. 
Soon  that  church  will  embrace  the  whole  world,  and 
you  be  driven  out  to  the  extreme  edge ;  another  step. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  103 


and  the  world  of  the  sacred  has  conquered:  you  sink 
into  the  abyss.  Therefore  take  courage  while  it  is  yet 
time,  wander  about  no  longer  in  the  profane  where 
now  it  is  dry  feeding,  dare  the  leap,  and  rush  in  through 
the  gates  into  the  sanctuary  itself.  If  you  devour  the 
sacred,  you  have  made  it  your  own!  Digest  the  sac- 
ramental wafer,  and  you  are  rid  of  it ! 


III.— THE  FREE 

The  ancients  and  the  moderns  having  been  presented 
above  in  two  divisions,  it  may  seem  as  if  the  free  were 
here  to  be  described  in  a  third  division  as  independent 
and  distinct.  This  is  not  so.  The  free  are  only  the 
more  modern  and  most  modern  among  the  ''moderns," 
and  are  put  in  a  separate  division  merely  because  they 
belong  to  the  present,  and  what  is  present,  above  all, 
claims  our  attention  here.  I  give  ''the  free"  only  as 
a  translation  of  "the  liberals,"  but  must  with  regard  to 
the  concept  of  freedom  (as  in  general  with  regard  to 
so  many  other  things  whose  anticipatory  introduction 
cannot  be  avoided)  refer  to  what  comes  later. 


§  1. — Political  Liberalism 

After  the  chalice  of  so-called  absolute  monarchy  had 
been  drained  down  to  the  dregs,  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury people  became  aware  that  their  drink  did  not  taste 
human — too  clearly  aware  not  to  begin  to  crave  a  differ- 
ent cup.  Since  our  fathers  were  "human  beings"  after 
all,  they  at  last  desired  also  to  be  regarded  as  such. 

Whoever  sees  in  us  something  else  than  human  be- 
ings, in  him  we  likewise  will  not  see  a  human  being, 
but  an  inhuman  being,  and  will  meet  him  as  an  unhuman 
being ;  on  the  other  hand^  whoever  recognizes  us  as 


104  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


human  beings  and  protects  us  against  the  danger  of 
being  treated  inhumanly,  him  we  will  honor  as  our 
true  protector  and  guardian. 

Let  us  then  hold  together  and  protect  the  man  in 
each  other ;  then  we  find  the  necessary  protection  in 
our  holding  together,  and  in  ourselves,  those  who  hold 
together,  a  fellowship  of  those  who  know  their  human 
dignity  and  hold  together  as  ''human  beings/'  Our 
holding  together  is  the  State;  we  who  hold  together  are 
the  nation. 

In  our  being  together  as  nation  or  State  we  are  only 
human  beings.  How  we  deport  ourselves  in  other  re- 
spects as  individuals,  and  what  self-seeking  impulses 
we  may  there  succumb  to^  belongs  solely  to  our  private 
life ;  our  public  or  State  life  is  a  purely  human  one. 
Everything  un-human  or  ''egoistic''  that  clings  to  us  is 
degraded  to  a  "private  matter"  and  we  distinguish  the 
State  definitely  from  "civil  society,"  which  is  the  sphere 
of  "egoism's"  activity. 

The  true  man  is  the  nation,  but  the  individual  is 
always  an  egoist.  Therefore  strip  ofif  your  individuality 
or  isolation  wherein  dwells  discord  and  egoistic  ine- 
quality, and  consecrate  yourselves  wholly  to  the  true 
man — ^the  nation  or  the  State.  Then  you  will  rank  as 
men,  and  have  all  that  is  man's ;  the  State,  the  true  man, 
will  entitle  you  to  what  belongs  to  it,  and  give  you  the 
"rights  of  man";  Man  gives  you  his  rights! 

So  runs  the  speech  of  commonalty. 

The  commonalty*  is  nothing  else  than  the  thought 
that  the  State  is  all  in  all,  the  true  man,  and  that  the 
individual's  human  value  consists  in  being  a  citizen  of 
the  State.  In  being  a  good  citizen  he  seeks  his  highest 
honor ;  beyond  that  he  knows  nothing  higher  than  at 
most  the  antiquated— "being  a  good  Christian." 

The    commonalty   developed    itself   in   the  struggle 

*  [Or  "citizenhood.''  The  word  (das  Buerger  turn)  mean.s 
either  the  condition  of  being  a  citizen,  or  citizen-like  principles, 
or  the  body  of  citizens  or  of  the  middle  or  business  class,  the 
bourgeoisie.] 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  105 


against  the  privileged  classes,  by  whom  it  was  cava- 
lierly treated  as  "third  estate"  and  confounded  with 
the  canaille.  In  other  words,  up  to  this  time  the  State 
had  recognized  caste.*  The  son  of  a  nobleman  was 
selected  for  posts  to  which  the  most  distinguished  com- 
moners aspired  in  vain,  etc.  The  civic  feeling  revolted 
against  this.  No  more  distinction,  no  giving  preference 
to  persons,  no  difference  of  classes !  Let  all  be  alike ! 
No  separate  interest  is  to  be  pursued  longer,  but  the 
general  interest  of  all.  The  State  is  to  be  a  fellowship 
of  free  and  equal  men,  and  every  one  is  to  devote  him- 
self to  the  ''welfare  of  the  whole,"  to  be  dissolved  in 
the  State,  to  make  the  State  his  end  and  ideal.  State! 
State !  so  ran  the  general  cry,  and  thenceforth  people 
sought  for  the  ''right  form  of  State."  the  best  constitu- 
tion, and  so  the  State  in  its  best  conception.  The  thought 
of  the  State  passed  into  all  hearts  and  awakened  en- 
thusiasm ;  to  serve  it,  this  mundane  god,  became  the 
new  divine  service  and  worship.  The  properly  political 
epoch  had  dawned.  To  serve  the  State  or  the  nation 
became  the  highest  ideal,  the  State's  interest  the  highest 
interest.  State  service  (for  which  one  does  not  by  any 
means  need  to  be  an  official)  the  highest  honor. 

So  then  the  separate  interests  and  personalities  had 
been  scared  away,  and  sacrifice  for  the  State  had  be- 
come the  shibboleth.  One  must  give  up  himself,  and 
live  only  for  the  State.  One  must  act  "disinterestedly," 
not  want  to  benefit  himself,  but  the  State.  Hereby  the 
latter  has  become  the  true  person,  before  whom  the 
individual  personality  vanishes:  not  I  live,  but  it  lives 
in  me.  Therefore,  in  comparison  with  the  former  self- 
seeking,  this  was  unselfishness  and  impersonality  itself. 
Before  this  god — State — all  egoism  vanished,  and  before 
it  all  were  equal:  they  were  without  any  other  distinc- 
tion— men,  nothing  but  men. 

The  Revolution  took  fire  from  the  inflammable  ma- 


*  [Man  hatte  im  Staate  ''die  ungleiche  Person  angesehen^ 
there  had  been  "respect  of  unequal  persons"  in  the  State.] 


106 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


terial  of  property.  The  government  needed  money. 
Now  it  must  prove  the  proposition  that  it  is  absolute, 
and  so  master  of  all  property,  sole  proprietor ;  it  must 
take  to  itself  its  money^,  v^^hich  was  only  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  subjects,  not  their  property.  Instead  of 
this,  it  calls  States-general,  to  have  this  money  granted 
to  it.  The  shrinking  from  strictly  logical  action  de- 
stroyed the  illusion  of  an  absolute  government;  he  who 
must  have  something  ''granted"  to  him  cannot  be  re- 
garded as  absolute.  The  subjects  recognized  that  they 
were  real  proprietors,  and  that  it  was  their  money  that 
was  demanded.  Those  who  had  hitherto  been  subjects 
attained  the  consciousnses  that  they  were  proprietors, 
Bailly  depicts  this  in  a  few  words:  'Tf  you  cannot  dis- 
pose of  my  property  without  my  assent,  how  much  less 
can  you  of  my  person,  of  all  that  concerns  my  mental 
and  social  position?  All  this  is  my  property,  like  the 
piece  of  land  that  I  till ;  and  I  have  a  right,  an  interest, 
to  make  the  laws  myself.''  Bailly's  words  sound,  cer- 
tainly, as  if  every  one  was  a  proprietor  now.  However, 
instead  of  the  government,  instead  of  the  prince,  the — 
nation  now  becomes  proprietor  and  master.  From  this 
time  on  the  ideal  is  spoken  of  as — ''popular  liberty'' — "a 
free  people,"  etc. 

As  early  as  July  8,  1789,  the  declaration  of  the  Bishop 
of  Autun  and  Barrere  took  away  all  semblance  of  the 
importance  of  each  and  every  individual  in  legislation; 
it  showed  the  complete  powerlessness  of  the  constitu- 
ents: the  majority  of  the  representatives  has  become 
master.  When  on  July  9  the  plan  for  division  of  the 
work  on  the  constitution  is  proposed,  Mirabeau  remarks 
that  "the  government  has  only  power,  no  rights ;  only 
in  the  people  is  the  source  of  all  right  to  be  found." 
On  July  16  this  same  Mirabeau  exclaims:  "Is  not  the 
people  the  source  of  all  power  f  The  source,  there- 
fore, of  all  right,  and  the  source  of  all — power!'''  By 


*  [Gewalty  a  word  which  is  also  commonly  used  like  the  Eng- 
lish 'Violence,"  denoting  especially  unlawful  violence.] 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  107 


the  way,  here  the  substance  of  ''right"  becomes  visible ; 
it  is — pozver.    ''He  who  has  power  has  right." 

The  commonalty  is  the  heir  of  the  privileged  classes. 
In  fact,  the  rights  of  the  barons,  which  were  taken  from 
them  as  "usurpations,''  only  passed  over  to  the  com- 
monalty. For  the  commonalty  was  now  called  the  "na- 
tion." "Into  the  hands  of  the  nation"  all  prerogatives 
were  given  back.  Thereby  they  ceased  to  be  "preroga- 
tives"* they  became  "rights. "f  From  this  time  on 
the  nation  demands  tithes,  compulsory  services;  it  has 
inherited  the  lord's  court,  the  rights  of  vert  and  venison, 
the — serfs.  The  night  of  August  4  was  the  death-night 
of  privileges  or  "prerogatives"  (cities,  communes, 
boards  of  magistrates,  were  also  privileged,  furnished 
with  prerogatives  and  seigniorial  rights),  and  ended 
with  the  new  morning  of  "right,"  the  "rights  of  the 
State,"  the  "rights  of  the  nation." 

The  monarch  in  the  person  of  the  "royal  master"  had 
been  a  paltry  monarch  compared  with  this  new  mon- 
arch, the  "sovereign  nation."  This  monarchy  was  a 
thousand  times  severer,  stricter,  and  more  consistent. 
Against  the  new  monarch  there  was  no  longer  any  right, 
any  privilege  at  all ;  how  limited  the  "absolute  king"  of 
the  ancien  regime  looks  in  comparison!  The  Revolu- 
tion effected  the  transformation  of  limited  monarchy 
into  absolute  monarchy.  From  this  time  on  every  right 
that  is  not  conferred  by  this  monarch  is  an  "assump- 
tion" ;  but  every  prerogative  that  he  bestows,  a  "right." 
The  times  demanded  absolute  royalty,  absolute  mon- 
archy; therefore  down  fell  that  so-called  absolute  roy- 
alty which  had  so  little  understood  how  to  become  abso- 
lute that  it  remained  limited  by  a  thousand  little  lords. 

What  was  longed  for  and  striven  for  through  thou- 
sands of  years — to  wit,  to  find  that  absolute  lord  be- 
side whom  no  other  lords  and  lordings  any  longer  exist 
to  clip  his  power — the  bourgeoisie  has  brought  to  pass. 
It  has  revealed  the  ord  who  alone  confers  "rightful 


*  [Vorrechte], 


t  [Rechte^ 


108  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


titles/^  and  without  whose  warrant  nothing  is  justified. 
''So  now  we  know  that  an  idol  is  nothing  in  the  world, 
and  that  there  is  no  other  god  save  the  one/'"^ 

Against  right  one  can  no  longer,  as  against  a  right, 
come  forward  with  the  assertion  thnt  it  is  "a  wrong/ 
One  can  say  now  only  that  it  is  a  piece  of  nonsense,  an 
illusion.  If  one  called  it  wrong,  one  ewould  have  to 
set  up  another  right  in  opposition  to  it,  and  measure 
it  by  this.  If,  on  the  contrary,  one  rejects  right  as  such, 
right  in  and  of  itself,  altogether,  then  one  also  rejects 
the  concept  of  wrong,  and  dissolves  the  whole  concept 
of  right  (to  which  the  concept  of  wrong  belongs). 

What  is  the  meaning  of  the  doctrine  that  we  all  en- 
joy ''equality  of  political  rig'hts"?  Only  this — that  the 
Stale  has  no  regard  for  my  person,  that  to  it  T,  like 
every  other,  am  only  a  man,  without  having  another 
significance  that  command  its  deference.  I  do  not 
command  its  deference  as  an  aristocrat,  a  nobleman's 
son,  or  even  as  heir  of  an  official  whose  office  belongs  to 
me  by  inheritance  (as  in  the  Middle  Ages  countships, 
etc.,  and  later  under  absolute  royalty,  where  hereditary 
offices  occur).  Now  the  State  has  an  innumerable  mul- 
titude of  rights  to  give  away  e.  g.  the  right  to  lead  a  bat- 
talion, a  company,  etc. ;  the  right  to  lecture  at  a  uni- 
versity ;  and  so  forth ;  it  has  them  to  give  away  because 
they  are  its  own,  i.  e.  State  rights  or  ''politicaF'  rights. 
Withal  it  makes  no  difference  to  it  to  whom  it  gives 
them,  if  the  receiver  only  fulfils  the  duties  that  spring 
from  the  delegated  rights.  To  it  we  are  all  of  us  all  right, 
and — equal — one  worth  no  more  and  no  less  than  an- 
other. It  is  indifferent  to  me  who  receives  the  command 
of  the  army,  says  the  sovereign  State,  provided  the 
grantee  understand  the  matter  properly.  ''Equality  of 
political  rights''  has,  consequently,  the  meaning  that 
every  one  may  acquire  every  right  that  the  State  has 
to  give  away,  if  only  he  fulfils  the  conditions  annexed 
thereto — conditions  Which  are  to  be  sought  only  in  the 


*  1  Corinthians  8,  4. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  A.ND  THE  NEW  109 


nature  of  the  particular  right,  not  in  a  predilection  for 
the  person  (persona  grata)  :  the  nature  of  the  right  to 
become  an  officer  brings  with  it  e.  g.,  the  necessity  that 
one  possess  sound  limbs  and  a  suitable  meaure  of  knowl- 
edge, but  it  does  not  have  noble  birth  as  a  condition ; 
if,  on  the  other  hand,  even  the  most  deserving  com- 
moner could  not  reach  that  station,  then  an  inequality 
of  political  rights  would  exist.  Among  the  States  of 
to-day  one  has  carried  out  that  maxim  of  equalitv  more, 
another  less. 

The  monarchy  of  estates  (so  I  will  call  absolute  roy- 
alty, the  time  of  the  kings  before  the  revolution)  kept 
the  individual  in  dependence  on  a  lot  of  little  mon- 
archies. These  were  fellowships  (societies)  like  the 
guilds, "  the  nobility,  the  priesthood,  the  burgher  class, 
cities,  communes,  etc.  Everywhere  the  individual  must 
regard  himself  first  as  a  member  of  this  little  society, 
and  yield  unconditional  obedience  to  its  spirit,  the  esprit 
de  corps,  as  his  monarch.  More,  e.  g.,  than  the  individual 
nobleman  himself  must  his  family,  the  honor  of  his  race, 
be  to  him.  Only  by  means  of  his  corporation,  his  estate, 
did  the  individual  have  relation  to  the  greater  corpora- 
tion, the  State — as  in  Catholicism  the  individual  deals 
with  God  only  through  the  priest.  To  this  the  third 
estate  now,  showing  courage  to  negate  itself  as  an  estate, 
made  an  end.  It  decided  no  longer  to  be  and  be  called 
an  estate  beside  other  estates,  but  to  glorify  and  general- 
ize itself  into  the  ''nation/'  Hereby  it  created  a  much 
more  complete  and  absolute  monarchy,  and  the  entire 
previously  ruling  principle  of  estates,  the  principle  of 
little  monarchies  inside  the  great,  went  down.  There- 
fore it  cannot  be  said  that  the  Revolution  was  a  revolution 
against  the  first  two  privileged  estates :  it  was  against 
the  little  monarchies  of  estates  in  general.  But,  if  the 
estates  and  their  despotism  were  broken  (the  king  too,  we 
know,  was  only  a  king  of  estates,  not  a  citizen-king),  the 
individuals  freed  from  the  inequality  of  estate  were  left. 
Were  they  now  really  to  be  without  estate  and  "out  of 
gear,"  no  longer  bound  by  any  estate,  without  a  general 


no 


THE  EGO  AND  ^IS  OWN 


bond  oi  union?  No,  for  the  third  estate  had  declared 
itself  the  nation  only  in  order  not  to  remain  an  estate 
beside  other  estates,  but  to  become  the  sole  estate.  This 
sole  estate  is  the  nation,  the  ''State/'  What  had  the  indi- 
vidual now  become?  A  political  Protestant,  for  he  had 
come  into  immediate  connection  with  his  God,  the  State. 
He  was  no  longer,  as  an  aristocrat,  in  the  monarchy  of 
the  nobility ;  as  a  mechanic,  in  the  monarchy  of  the  guild ; 
but  he,  like  all,  recognized  and  acknowledged  only — one 
lord,  the  State,  as  whose  servants  they  all  received  the 
equal  title  of  honor,  ''citizen/' 

The  bourgeoisie  is  the  aristocracy  of  desert  ;  its  motto, 
''Let  desert  wear  its  crowns."  It  fought  against  the 
"lazy"  aristocracy,  for  according  to  it  (the  industrious 
aristocracy  acquired  by  industry  and  desert)  it  is  not 
the  "born"  who  is  free,  nor  yet  I  who  am  free  either, 
but  the  "deserving"  man,  the  honest  servant  (of  his 
king;  of  the  State ;  of  the  people  in  constitutional  States). 
Through  service  one  acquires  freedom,  i.  e.  acquires 
"deserts,"  even  if  one  served — mammon.  One  must  de- 
serve well  of  the  State,  i.  e.  of  the  principle  of  the  State, 
of  its  moral  spirit.  He  who  serves  this  spirit  of  the 
State  is  a  good  citizen,  let  him  live  to  whatever  honest 
branch  of  industry  he  will.  In  its  eyes  innovators  prac- 
tise a  "breadless  art. '  Only  the  "shopkeeper"  is  "prac- 
tical," and  the  spirit  that  chases  after  public  offices  is 
as  much  the  shopkeeping  spirit  as  is  that  which  tries 
in  trade  to  feather  its  nest  or  otherwise  to  become  useful 
.to  itself  and  anybody  else. 

\    But,  if  the  deserving  count  as  the  free  (for  what  does 
Hhe  comfortable  commoner,  the  faithful  office-holder,  | 
lack  of  that  freedom  that  his  heart  desires?),  then  the 
"servants"  are  the — free.    The  obedient  servant  is  the 
free  man!    What  glaring  nonsense!    Yet  this  is  the 
sense  of  the  bourgeoisie^  and  its  poet,  Goethe,  as  well 
as  its  philosopher,  Hegel,  succeeded  in  glorifying  the  de-  j 
pendence  of  the  subject  on  the  object,  obedience  to  thei 
objective  world,  etc.    He  who  only  serves  the  cause,! 
"devotes  himself  entirely  to  it,"  has  the  true  freedom.! 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  111 


And  among  thinkers  the  cause  was — reason,  that  which, 
hke  State  and  Church,  gives — general  laws,  and  puts 
the  individual  man  in  irons  by  the  thought  of  hMnanity. 
It  determines  what  is  "true/'  according  to  which  one 
must  then  act.  No  more  "rational"  people  than  the  honest 
servants,  who  primarily  are  called  good  citizens  as  ser- 
vants of  the  State. 

Be  rich  as  Croesus  or  poor  as  Job — the  State  of  the 
commonalty  leaves  that  to  your  option;  but  only  have 
a  "good  disposition."  This  it  demands  of  you,  and  counts 
it  its  most  urgent  task  to  establish  this  in  all.  There- 
fore it  will  keep  you  from  "evil  promptings,"  hold- 
ing the  "ill-disposed"  in  check  and  silencing  their  inflam- 
matory discourses  under  censors'  cancelling-marks  or 
press-penalties  and  behind  dungeon  walls,  and  will,  on 
the  other  hand,  appoint  people  of  "good  disposition"  as 
censors,  and  in  every  way  have  a  moral  influence  exerted 
on  you  by  "well-disposed  and  well-meaning"  people.  If 
it  has  made  you  deaf  to  evil  promptings,  then  it  opens 
your  ears  again  all  the  more  diligently  to  good  prompt- 
ings. 

With  the  time  of  the  bourgeoisie  begins  that  of  lib- 
eralism. People  want  to  see  what  is  "rational,"  "suited 
to  the  times,"  etc.,^  established  everywhere.  The  follow- 
ing definition  of  liberalism,  which  is  supposed  to  be  pro- 
nounced in  its  honor,  characterizes  it  completely:  "Lib- 
eralism is  nothing  else  than  the  knowledge  of  reason, 
applied  to  our  existing  relations."*  Its  aim  is  a  "rational 
order,"  a  "moral  behavior,"  a  "limited  freedom,"  not 
anarchy,  lawlessness,  selfhood.  But,  if  reason  rules,  then 
the  person  succumbs.  Art  has  for  a  long  time  not  only 
acknowledged  the  ugly,  but  considered  the  ugly  as  neces- 
sary to  its  existence,  and  taken  it  up  into  itself ;  it  needs 
the  villain,  etc.  In  the  religious  domain,  too,  the  ex- 
tremest  liberals  go  so  far  that  they  want  to  see  the  most 
religious  man  regarded  as  a  citizen — i.  e.  the  religious 
villain;  they  want  to  see  no  more  of  trials  for  heresy. 


*  "Ein  und  zwanzig  Bogen,''  p.  12. 


112 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


But  against  the  "rational  law''  no  one  is  to  rebel,  other- 
wise he  IS  threatened  with  the  severest — penalty.  What 
is  w^anted  is  not  free  movement  and  realization  of  the 
person  or  of  me,  but  of  reason — i,  e.  a  dominion  of  rea- 
son, a  dominion.  The  liberals  are  zealots^  not  exactly 
for  the  faith,  for  God,  etc.,  but  certainly  for  reason,  their 
master.  They  brook  no  lack  of  breeding,  and  therefore 
no  self-development  and  self-determination;  they  play 
the  guardian  as  effectively  as  the  most  absolute  rulers. 

''Political  liberty,"  what  are  we  to  understand  by 
that?  Perhaps  the  individual's  independence  of  the  State 
and  its  laws?  No;  on  the  contrary,  the  individual's 
subjection  in  the  State  and  tp  the  State's  laws.  But  why 
''liberty'  ?  Because  one  is  no  longer  separated  from  the 
State  by  intermediaries,  but  stands  in  direct  and  im- 
mediate relation  to  it;  because  one  is  a — citizen,  not  the 
subject  of  another,  not  even  of  the  king  as  a  person,  but 
only  in  his  quality  as  "supreme  head  of  the  State."  Politi- 
cal liberty,  this  fundamental  doctrine  of  liberalism,  is 
nothing  but  a  second  phase  of — Protestantism,  and  runs 
quite  parallel  with  "religious  liberty.""^  Or  would  it  per- 
haps be  right  to  understand  by  the  latter  an  independ- 
ence of  religion?  Anything  but  that.  Independence  of 
intermediaries  is  all  that  it  is  intended  to  express,  in- 
dependence of  mediating  priests,  the  abolition  of  the 
"laity,"  and  so  direct  and  immediate  relation  to  religion 
or  to  God.  Only  on  the  supposition  that  one  has  religion 
can  he  enjoy  freedom  of  religion;  freedom  of  religion 
does  not  mean  being  without  religion,  but  inwardness  of 
faith,  unmediated  intercourse  with  God.  To  him  who 
is /'religiously  free"  religion  is  an  afifair  of  the  heart,  it 
is  to  him  his  own  affair,  it  is  to  him  a  "sacredly  serious 
matter."  So,  too,  to  the  "politically  free"  man  the  State 
is  a  sacredly  serious  matter;  it  is  his  heart's  affair,  his 
chief  affair,  his  own  affair. 

Political  liberty  means  that  the  polis,  the  State,  is  free ; 

*  Louis  Blanc  says  C'Histoire  des  Dix  Ans,''  I,  p.  138)  of  the 
time  of  the  Restoration :  ''Le  protestantisme  devint  le  fond  des 
idees  et  des  mcetirs." 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  113 


freedom  of  religion  that  religion  is  free,  as  freedom  of 
conscience  signifies  that  conscience  is  free;  not^  there- 
fore, that  I  am  free  from  the  State,  from  religion,  from 
conscience,  or  that  I  am  rid  of  them.  It  does  not  mean 
my  liberty,  but  the  liberty  of  a  power  that  rules  and 
subjugates  me ;  it  means  that  one  of  my  despots,  like 
State,  religion,  conscience,  is  free.  State,  religion,  con- 
science, these  despots,  make  me  a  slave,  and  their  liberty 
is  my  slavery.  That  in  this  they  necessarily  follow  the 
principle,  ''the  end  hallows  the  means,"  is  self-evident. 
If  the  welfare  of  the  State  is  the  end,  war  is  a  hallowed 
means  ;  if  justice  is  the  State's  end,  homicide  is  a  hallowed 
means,  and  is  called  by  its  sacred  name,  "execution," 
etc. ;  the  sacred  State  hallows  everything  that  is  service- 
able to  it. 

Individual  liberty,"  over  which  civic  liberalism  keeps 
jealous  watch,  does  not  by  any  means  signify  a  completely 
free  self-determination,  by  which  actions  become  alto- 
gether mine,  but  only  independence  of  persons.  Indi- 
vidually free  is  he  who  is  responsible  to  no  ma7t.  Taken 
in  this  sense — and  we  are  not  allowed  to  understand  it 
otherwise — not  only  the  ruler  is  individually  free,  i.  e., 
irresponsible  tozvard  men  (''before  God,"  we  know,  he 
acknowledges  himself  responsible),  but  all  who  are  "re- 
sponsible only  to  the  law.  '  This  kind  of  liberty  was  won 
through  the  revolutionary  movemert  of  the  century — to 
wit,  independence  of  arbitrary  will,  of  fel  est  notre  plaisir. 
Hence  the  constitutional  prince  must  himself  be  strip- 
ped of  all  personality,  deprived  of  all  individual  deci- 
sion, that  he  may  not  as  a  person,  as  an  individual  Tfian, 
violate  the  "individual  liberty"  of  others.  The  per- 
sonal ivill  of  the  ruler  has  disappeared  in  the  constitu- 
tional prince;  it  is  with  a  right  feeling,  therefore,  that 
absolute  princes  resist  this.  Nevertheless  these  very  ones 
profess  to  be  in  the  best  sense  "Christian  princes."  For 
this,  however,  they  must  become  a  purely  spiritual  power, 
as  the  Christian  is  subject  only  to  spirit  ("God  is  spirit"). 
The  purely  spiritual  power  is  consistently  represented  ^ 
only  by  the  constitutional  prince,  he  who,  without  any 


114 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


personal  significance,  stands  there  spiritualized  to  the 
degree  that  he  can  rank  as  a  sheer,  uncanny  "spirit/'  as 
an  idea.  The  constitutional  king  is  the  truly  Christian 
king,  the  genuine,  consistent  carrying-out  of  the  Chris- 
tian principle.  In  the  constitutional  monarchy  individual 
dominion — i.  e.,  a  real  ruler  that  wills — has  found  its 
end ;  here,  therefore,  individual  liberty  prevails,  inde- 
pendence of  every  individual  dictator,  of  every  one  who 
could  dictate  to  me  with  a  tel  est  notre  plaisir.  It  is 
the  completed  Christian  State-life,  a  spiritualized  life. 

The  behavior  of  the  commonalty  is  liberal  through 
and  through.  Every  personal  invasion  of  another's  sphere 
revolts  the  civic  sense ;  if  the  citizen  sees  that  one  is 
dependent  on  the  humor,  the  pleasure,  the  will  of  a  man 
as  individual  (i.  e.  as  not  authorized  by  a  "higher  pow- 
er"), at  once  he  brings  his  liberalism  to  the  front  and 
shrieks  about  "arbitrariness."  In  fine,  the  citizen  as- 
serts his  freedom  from  what  is  called  orders  {ordon- 
nance) :  "No  one  has  any  business  to  give  me — orders!'' 
Orders  carries  the  idea  that  what  I  am  to  do  is  another 
man's  will,  while  lazv  does  not  express  a  personal  author- 
ity of  another.  The  liberty  of  the  commonalty  is  liberty 
or  independence  from  the  will  of  another  person,  so- 
called  personal  or  individual  liberty;  for  being  personally 
free  means  being  only  so  free  that  no  other  person  can 
dispose  of  mine,  or  that  what  I  may  or  may  not  do  does 
not  depend  on  the  personal  decree  of  another.  The  lib- 
erty of  the  press,  for  instance,  is  such  a  liberty  of  liberal- 
ism, liberalism  fighting  only  against  the  coercion  of  the 
censorship  as  that  of  personal  wilfulness,  but  otherwise 
showing  itself  extremely  inclined  and  willing  to  tyran- 
nize over  the  press  by  "press  laws" ;  i.  e,,  the  civic  lib- 
erals want  liberty  of  writing  for  themselves;  for,  as  they 
are  law-abiding,  their  writings  will  not  bring  them  under 
the  law.-  Only  liberal  matter,  i.  e.  only  lawful  matter,  is, 
to  be  allowed  to  be  printed :  otherwise  the  ''press  laws" 
threaten  "press-penalties."  If  one  sees  personal  liberty 
assured,  one  does  not  notice  at  all  how,  if  a  new  issue 
happens  to  arise,  the  most  glaring  unfreedom  becomes 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  115 


dominant.  For  one  is  rid  of  orders  indeed,  and  ''no  one 
has  any  business  to  give  us  orders/'  but  one  has  become 
so  much  the  more  submissive  to  the — law.  One  is  en- 
thralled now  in  due  legal  form. 

In  the  citizen-State  there  are  only  ''free  people,"  who 
are  compelled  to  thousands  of  things  {e.  g.  to  deference, 
to  a  confession  of  faith,  and  the  like).  But  what  does 
that  amount  to?  Why,  it  is  only  the — State,  the  law, 
not  any  man,  tha  compels  them ! 

What  does  the  commonalty  mean  by  inveighing  against 
every  personal  order,  i.  e.  every  order  not  founded  on 
the  "cause,"  on  "reason,"  etc.?  It  is  simply  fighting  in 
the  interest  of  the  "cause"*  against  the  dominion  of 
"persons" !  But  the  mind's  cause  is  the  rational,  good, 
lawful,  etc. ;  that  is  the  "good  cause."  The  commonaltv 
wants  an  impersonal  ruler. 

Furthermore,  if  the  principle  is  this^  that  only  the 
cause  is  to  rule  man — to  wit,  the  cause  of  morality,  the 
cause  of  legality,  etc. — then  no  personal  balking  of  one 
by  the  other  may  be  authorized  either  (as  formerly, 
e.  g.,  the  commoner  was  balked  of  the  aristocratic  of- 
fices, the  aristocrat  of  common  mechanical  trades,  etc.)  ; 
i,  e,  free  competition  must  exist.  Only  through  the  thingf 
can  one  balk  another  {e,  g,  the  rich  man  balking  the  im- 
pecunious man  by  money,  a  thing),  not  as  a  person. 
Henceforth  only  one  lordship,  the  lordship  of  the 
is  admitted ;  personally  no  one  is  any  longer  lord  of  an- 
other. Even  at  birth  the  children  belong  to  the  State, 
and  to  the  parents  only  in  the  name  of  the  State,  which, 
e.  g.,  does  not  allow  infanticide,  demands  their  bap- 
tism, etc. 

But  all  the  State's  children,  furthermore,  are  of  quite 
equal  account  in  its  eyes  ("civic  or  political  equality*'), 
and  they  may  see  to  it  themselves  how  they  get  along 
with  each  other;  they  may  compete. 

Free  competition  means  nothing  else  than  that  every 
one  can  present  himself,  assert  himself,  fight,  against  an- 


*  [Sache,  which  commonly  means  thing.] 


t  [*Sache] 


116 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


other.  Of  course  the  feudal  party  set  itself  against  this, 
as  its  existence  depended  on  an  absence  of  competition. 
The  contests  in  the  time  of  the  Restoration  in  France 
had  no  other  substance  than  this — that  the  bourgeoisie 
was  struggling  for  free  competition,  and  the  feudalists 
were  seeking  to  bring  back  the  guild  system. 

Now,  free  competition  has  won,  and  against  the  guild 
system  it  had  to  win.  (See  below  for  the  further  dis- 
cussion.) 

If  the  Revolution  ended  in  a  reaction,  this  only  showed 
what  the  Revolution  really.  W2is.  For  every  effort  arrives 
at  reaction  when  it  comes  to  discreet  reflection,  and 
storms  forward  in  the  original  action  only  so  long  as 
it  is  an  intoxication,  an  ''indiscretion.''  ''Discretion'' 
will  always  be  the  cue  of  the  reaction,  because  discretion 
sets  limits,  and  liberates  what  was  really  wanted,  i.  e. 
the  principle,  from  the  initial  "unbridledness"  and  "un- 
restrainedness."  Wild  young  fellows,  bumptious  stu- 
dents, who  set  aside  all  considerations,  are  really  Philis- 
tines, since  with  them,  as  with  the  latter,  considerations 
form  the  substance  of  their  conduct ;  only  that  as  swag- 
gerers they  are  mutinous  against  considerations  and  in 
negative  relations  to  them,  but  as  Philistines,  later,  they 
give  themselves  up  to  considerations  and  have  positive 
relations  to  them.  In  both  cases  all  their  doing  and  think- 
ing turns  upon  "considerations,"  but  the  Philistine  is  re- 
actionary in  relation  to  the  student ;  he  is  the  wild  fellow 
come  to  discreet  reflection,  as  the  latter  is  the  unreflect- 
tmg  Philistine.  Daily  experience  confirms  the  truth  of 
this  transformation,  and  shows  how  the  swaggerers  turn 
to  Philistines  in  turning  gi*ay. 

So  too  the  so-called  reaction  in  Germany  gives  proof 
that  it  was  only  the  discreet  continuation  of  the  warlike 
jubilation  of  liberty. 

The  Revolution  was  not  directed  against  the  estab- 
lished, but  against  the  establishment  in  question,  against 
a  particular  establishment.  It  did  away  with  this  ruler, 
not  with  the  ruler — on  the  contrary,  the  French  were 
ruled  most  inexorably ;  it  killed  the  old  vicious  rulers,  but 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  ll^ 


wanted  to  confer  on  the  virtuous  ones  a  securely  estab- 
lished position,  i.  e.  it  simply  set  virtue  in  the  place  of 
vice.  (Vice  and  virtue,  again,  are  on  their  part  distin- 
guished from  each  other  only  as  a  wild  young  fellow  from 
a  Philistine.)  Etc. 

To  this  day  the  revolutionary  principle  has  gone  no 
farther  than  to  assail  only  one  or  another  particular  estab- 
lishment, i,  e.  be  reformatory.  Much  as  may  be  im- 
proved, strongly  as  ''discreet  progress''  may  be  adhered 
to,  always  there  is  only  a  new  master  set  in  the  old  one's 
place,  and  the  overturning  is  a — building  up.  We  are 
still  at  the  distinction  of  the  young  Philistine  from  the 
old  one.  The  Revolution  began  in  bourgeois  fashion  with 
the  uprising  of  the  third  estate,  the  middle  class ;  in  bour- 
geois fashion  it  dries  away.  It  was  not  the  individual  man 
— and  he  alone  is  Man — that  became  free,  but  the  citizen, 
the  citoyen,  the  political  man,  who  for  that  very  reason  is 
not  Man  but  a  specimen  of  the  human  species,  and  more 
particularly  a  specimen  of  the  species  Citizen,  a  free 
citizen. 

In  the  Revolution  it  was  not  the  individual  who  acted 
so  as  to  affect  the  world's  history,  but  a  people;  the 
nation,  the  sovereig  nation,  wanted  to  effect  everything. 
A  fancied  I,  an  idea,  such  as  the  nation  is,  appears  acting ; 
t.  e.,  the  individuals  contribute  themselves  as  tools  of  this 
idea,  and  act  as  ''citizens." 

The  commonalty  has  its  power,  and  at  the  same  time 
its  limits,  in  the  fundam'ental  law  of  the  State,  in  a 
charter,  in  a  legitimate*  or  "jusff  prince  who  himself 
is  guided,  and  rules,  according  to  "rational  laws";  in 
short,  in  legality.  The  period  of  the  bourgeoisie  is  ruled 
by  the  British  spirit  of  legality.  An  assembly  of  provin- 
cial estates,  e.  g.,  is  ever  recalling  that  its  authorization 
goes  only  so  and  so  far,  and  that  it  is  called  at  all  only 
through  favor  and  can  be  thrown  out  again  through  dis- 
favor. It  is  always  reminding  itself  of  its — vocation. 
It  is  certainly  not  to  be  denied  that  my  father  begot  me ; 


^  [Or  "righteous.''    German  rechtlich.} 


t  [gerecht] 


118 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


but,  now  that  I  am  once  begotten,  surely  his  purposes  in 
begetting  do  not  concern  me  a  bit  and,  whatever  he  may 
have  called  me  to,  I  do  what  I  myself  will.  Therefore 
even  a  called  assembly  of  estates,  the  French  assembly 
in  the  beginning  of  the  Revolution,  recognized  quite  right- 
ly that  it  was  independent  of  the  caller.  It  existed,  and 
would  have  been  stupid  if  it  did  not  avail  itself  of  the 
right  of  existence,  but  fancied  itself  dependent  as  on  a 
father.  The  called  one  no  longer  has  to  ask  "what  did 
the  caller  want  when  he  created  me?"  but  "what  do  I 
want  after  I  have  once  followed  the  call?''  Not  the 
caller,  not  the  constituents,  not  the  charter  according  to 
which  their  meeting  was  called  out,  nothing  will  be  to 
him  a  sacred,  inviolable  power.  He  is  authorized  for 
everything  that  is  in  his  power ;  he  will  know  no  restric- 
tive ^'authorization,"  will  not  want  to  be  loyal.  This,  if 
any  such  thing  could  be  expected  from  chambers  at  all, 
would  give  a  completely  egoistic  chamber,  severed  from 
all  navelstring  and  without  consideration.  But  chambers 
are  always  devout,  and  therefore  one  cannot  be  sur- 
prised if  so  much  half-way  or  undecided,  i,  e.  hypocritical, 
^'egoism"  parades  in  them. 

The  members  of  the  estates  are  to  remain  within  the 
limits  that  are  traced  for  them  by  the  charter,  by  the 
king's  will,  and  the  like.  If  they  will  not  or  can  not 
do  that,  then  they  are  to  "step  out.''  What  dutiful  man 
could  act  otherwise,  could  put  himself,  his  conviction, 
and  his  will  as  the  first  thing?  who  could  be  so  immoral 
as  to  want  to  assert  himself,  even  if  the  body  corporate 
and  everything  should  go  to  run  over  it?  People  keep 
carefully  within  the  limits  of  their  authorisation;  of 
course  one  must  remain  within  the  limits  of  his  power 
anyhoWj,  because  no  one  can  do  more  than  he  can.  "My 
power,  or,  if  it  be  so,  powerlessness,  be  my  sole  limit, 
but  authorizations  only  restraining — ^precepts?  Should 
I  profess  this  all-subversive  view?  No,  I  am  a — law- 
abiding  citizen 

The  commonalty  professes  a  morality  which  is  most 
closely  connected  with  its  essence.    The  first  demand 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  119 


of  this  morality  is  to  the  effect  that  one  should  carry 
on  a  solid  business,  an  honorable  trade,  lead  a  moral 
life.  Immoral,  to  it,  is  the  sharper^  the  demirep,  the 
thief,  robber,  and  murderer,  the  gamester,  the  penni- 
less man  without  a  situation,  the  frivolous  man.  The 
doughty  commoner  designates  tHe  feeling  against  these 
''immoraF'  people  as  his  ''deepeest  indignation.''  All 
these  lack  settlement,  the  solid  quality  of  business,  a 
solid,  seemly  life,  a  fixed  income,  etc.;  in  short,  they 
belong,  because  their  existence  does  not  rest  on  a 
secure  basis,  to  the  dangerous  ''individuals  or  isolated 
persons/'  to  the  dangerous  proletariat;  they  are  ''indi- 
vidual bawlers"  who  offer  no  "guarantee"  and  have 
"nothing  to  lose,"  and  so  nothing  to  risk.  The  forming 
of  family  ties  e,  g.,  binds  a  man ;  he  who  is  bound  fur- 
nishes security,  can  be  taken  hold  of ;  not  so  the  street- 
walker. The  gamester  stakes  everything  on  the  game, 
ruins  himself  and  others — no  guarantee.  All  who  ap- 
pear to  the  commoner  suspicious,  hostile,  and  danger- 
ous might  be  comprised  under  the  name  "vagabonds" ; 
every  vagabondish  way  of  living  displeases  him.  For 
there  are  intellectual  vagabonds  too,  to  whom  the  he- 
reditary dwelling-place  of  their  fathers  seems  toO' 
cramped  and  oppressive  for  them  to  be  willing  to  sat- 
isfy themselves  with  the  limited  space  any  more ;  instead 
of  keeping  within  the  limits  of  a  temperate  style  of 
thinking,  and  taking  as  inviolable  truth  what  furnishes 
comfort  and  tranquillity  to  thousands,  they  overleap 
all  bounds  of  the  traditional  and  run  wild  with  their 
impudent  criticism  and  untamed  mania  for  doubt,  these 
extravagating  vagabonds.  They  form  the  class  of  the 
unstable,  restless,  changeable,  i,  e.  of  the  proletariat, 
and,  if  they  give  voice  to  their  unsettled  nature,  are 
called  "unruly  fellows." 

Such  a  broad  sense  has  the  so-called  proletariat,  or 
pauperism.  How  much  one  would  err  if  one  believed 
the  commonalty  to  be  desirous  of  doing  away  with  pov- 
erty (pauperism)  to  the  best  of  its  ability!  On  the 
contrary,  the  good  citizen  helps  himself  with  the  incom- 


120  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


parably  comforting  conviction  that  ''the  fact  is  that  the 
good  things  of  fortune  are  unequally  divided  and  will 
always  remain  so — according  to  God's  wise  decree." 
The  poverty  which  surrounds  him  in  every  alley  does 
not  disturb  the  true  commoner  further  than  that  at 
most  he  clears  his  account  with  it  by  throwing  an  alms, 
or  finds  work  and  food  for  an  ''honest  and  serviceable" 
fellow.  But  so  much  the  more  does  he  feel  his  quiet 
enjoyment  clouded  by  innovating  and  discontented  pov- 
erty, 'by  those  poor  who  no  longer  behave  quietly  and 
endure,  but  begin  to  run  wild  and  become  restless.  Lock 
up  the  vagabond,  thrust  the  breeder  of  unrest  into  the 
darkest  dungeon!  He  wants  to  "arouse  dissatisfaction 
and  incite  people  against  existing  institutions"  in  the 
State — ^^stone  him,  stone  him! 

But  from  these  identical  discontented  ones  comes  a 
reasoning  somewhat  as  follows:  It  need  not  make  any 
difference  to  the  "good  citizens"  who  protects  them 
and  their  principles,  whether  an  absolute  king  or  a  con- 
stitutional one,  a  republic,  etc.,  if  only  they  are  protect- 
ed. And  what  is  their  principle,  whose  protector  they 
always  "love"?  Not  that  of  labor;  not  that  of  birth 
either.  But  that  of  mediocrity,  of  the  golden  mean ;  a 
little  birth  and  a  little  labor,  i,  e,,  an  interest-hearing 
possession.  Possession  is  here  the  fixed,  the  given,  in- 
herited (birth)  ;  interest-drawing  is  the  exertion  about 
it  (labor)  ;  laboring  capital,  therefore.  Only  no  immod- 
eration, no  ultra,  no  radicalism!  Right  of  birth  cer- 
tainly, but  only  hereditary  possessions:  labor  certainly, 
yet  little  or  none  at  all  of  one's  own,  but  labor  and  capital 
and  of  the — subject  laborers. 

If  an  age  is  imbued  with  an  error,  some  always  de- 
rive advantage  from  the  error,  while  the  rest  have  to 
suffer  from  it.  In  the  Middle  Ages  the  error  was  gen- 
eral among  Christians  that  the  church  must  have  all 
power,  or  the  supreme  lordship  on  earth:  the  hier- 
archs  believed  in  this  "truth"  not  less  than  the  laymen, 
and  both  were  spellbound  in  the  like  error.  But  by  it 
the  hierarchs  had  the  advantage  of  power,  the  laymen^ 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  121 


had  to  suffer  subjection.  However,  as  the  saying  goes, 
''one  learns  wisdom  by  suffering" ;  and  so  the  laymen 
at  last  learned  wisdom  and  no  longer  believed  in  the 
mediaeval  ''truth/' — A  like  relation  exists  between  the 
commonalty  and  the  laboring  class.  Commoner  and 
laborer  believe  in  the  "truth''  of  money;  they  who  do  not 
possess  it  believe  in  it  no  less  than  those  who  possess 
it ;  the  laymen,  therefore,  as  well  as  the  priests. 

"Money  governs  the  world"  is  the  keynote  of  the 
civic  epoch.  A  destitute  aristocrat  and  a  destitute  labor- 
er, as  "starvelings,"  amount  to  nothing  so  far  as  politi- 
cal consideration  is  concerned;  birth  and  labor  do  not 
do  it,  but  money  brings  consideration.'^  The  possessors 
rule,  but  the  State  trains  up  from  the  destitute  its  "serv- 
ants/'to  whom,  in  proportion  as  they  are  to  rule  (gov- 
ern) in  its  name,  it  gives  money  (a  salary). 

I  receive  everything  from  the  State.  Have  I  any- 
thing without  the  State  s  assent  f  What  I  have  without 
this  it  takes  from  me  as  soon  as  it  discovers  the  lack 
of  a  "legal  title."  Do  I  not,  therefore,  have  everything 
through  its  grace,  its  assent? 

On  this  alone,  on  the  legal  title,  the  commonalty 
rests.  The  commoner  is  what  he  is  through  the  pro- 
tection of  the  State,  through  the  State's  grace.  He 
would  necessarily  be  afraid  of  losing  everything  if  the 
State's  power  were  broken. 

But  how  is  it  with  him  who  has  nothing  to  lose, 
how  with  the  proletarian?  As  he  has  nothing  to  lose, 
he  does  not  need  the  protection  of  the  State  for  his 
"nothing."  He  may  gain,  on  the  contrary,  if  that  pro- 
tection of  the  State  is  withdran  from  the  protege. 

Therefore  the  non-possessor  will  regard  the  State  as 
a  power  protecting  the  possessor,  which  privileges  the 
latter,  but  does  nothing  for  him,  the  non-possessor,  but 
to — suck  his  blood.  The  State  is  a — commoners'  State, 
is  the  estate  of  the  commonalty.  It  protects  man  not 
according  to  his  labor,  but  according  to  his  tractable- 


[das  Geld  gibt  Geltung,] 


122  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


ness  ('loyalty") — to  wit,  according  to  whether  the 
rights  entrusted  to  him  by  the  State  are  enjoyed  and 
managed  in  accordance  with  the  will,  i.  e.  laws,  of  the 
State. 

Under  the  regime  of  the  commonalty  the  laborers 
always  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  possessors — i,  e.  of 
those  who  have  at  their  disposal  some  bit  of  the  State 
domains  (and  everything  possessible  is  State  domain, 
belongs  to  the  State,  and  is  only  a  fief  of  the  individ- 
ual), especially  money  and  land;  of  the  capitalists,  there- 
fore. The  laborer  cannot  realize  on  his  labor  to  the 
extent  of  the  value  that  it  has  for  the  consumer.  ''La- 
bor is  badly  paid!"  The  capitalist  has  the  greatest 
profit  from  it. — Well  paid,  and  more  than  well  paid 
are  only  the  labors  of  those  who  heighten  the  splendor 
and  dominion  of  the  State,  the  labors  of  high  State 
servants.  The  State  pays  well  that  its  "good  citizens/' 
the  possessors,  may  be  able  to  pay  badly,  without  dan- 
ger; it  secures  to  itself  by  good  payments  its  servants, 
out  of  whom  it  forms  a  protecting  power,  a  "police" 
(to  the  police  belong  soldiers,  officials  of  all  kinds, 
e,  g.,  those  of  justice,  education,  etc. — in  short,  the 
whole  "machinery  of  the  State")  for  the  "good  citi- 
zens," and  the  "good  citizens"  gladly  pay  high  taxes  to 
it  in  order  to  pay  so  much  lower  rates  to  their  laborers. 

But  the  class  of  laborers,  because  unprotected  in  what 
they  essentially  are  (for  they  do  not  enjoy  the  protec- 
tion of  the  State  as  laborers,  but  as  its  subjects  they 
have  a  share  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  police,  a  so-called 
protection  of  the  law),  remains  a  power  hostile  to  this 
State,  this  State  of  possessors,  this  "citizen  kingship." 
Its  principle,  labor,  is  not  recognized  as  to  its  value;  it 
is  exploited,*  a  spoilf  of  the  possessors,  the  enemy. 

The  laborers  have  the  most  enormous  power  in  their 
hands,  and,  if  they  once  become  thoroughly  conscious 
of  it  and  used  it,  nothing  would  withstand  them;  they 
would  only  have  to  stop  labor,  regard  the  product  of 


*  [ansgebeutet] 


t  [Kriegsbeute] 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  123 


labor  as  theirs,  and  enjoy  it.  This  is  the  sense  of  the 
labor  diturbances  which  show  themselves  here  and 
there. 

The  State  rests  on  the — slavery  of  labor.  If  labor 
becomes  free,  the  State  is  lost. 

§.  2. — Social  Liberalism 

We  are  freeborn  men,  and  wherever  we  look  we  see 
ourselves  made  servants  of  egoists!  Are  we  therefore 
to  become  egoists  too  ?  Heaven  forbid !  we  want  rather 
to  make  egoists  impossible !  We  want  to  make  them  all 
''ragamuffins" ;  all  of  us  must  have  nothing,  that  ''all 
may  have.'' 

So  say  the  Socialists. 

Who  is  this  person  that  you  call  "All"? — It  is  "socie- 
ty"!— But  is  it  corporeal,  then? — We  are  its  body! — 
You?  Why,  you  are  not  a  body  yourselves; — you,  sir, 
are  corporeal  to  be  sure,  you  too,  and  you,  but  you  all  to- 
gether are  only  bodies,  not  a  body.  Accordingly  the 
united  society  may  indeed  have  bodies  at  its  service,  but 
no  one  body  of  its  own.  Like  the  "nation"  of  the  politi- 
cians, it  will  turn  out  to  be  nothing  but  a  "spirit,"  its 
body  only  semblance. 

The  freedom  of  man  is,  in  political  liberalism,  freedom 
from  persons^  from  personal  dominion,  from  the  master; 
the  securing  of  each  individual  person  against  other  per- 
sons, personal  freedom. 

No  one  has  any  orders  to  give;  the  law  alone  gives 
orders. 

But,  even  if  the  persons  have  become  equal,  yet  their 
possessions  have  not.  And  yet  the  poor  man  needs  the 
rich,  the  rich  the  poor,  the  former  the  rich  man's  money, 
the  latter  the  poor  man's  labor.  So  no  one  needs  an- 
other as  a  person,  but  needs  him  as  a  giver,  and  thus  as 
one  who  has  something  to  give,  as  holder  or  possessor. 
So  what  he  has  makes  the  man.  And  in  having,  or  in 
"possessions,"  people  are  unequal. 

Consequently,  social  liberalism  concludes,  no  one  must 


124 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


have,  as  according  to  political  liberalism  no  one  was  to 
give  orders;  i.  e.,  as  in  that  case  the  State  alone  obtained 
the  command,  so  now  society  alone  obtains  the  posses- 
sions. 

For  the  State,  protecting  each  one's  person  and  prop- 
erty against  the  other,  separates  them  from  one  another; 
each  one  is  his  special  part  and  has  his  special  part.  He 
who  is  satisfied  with  what  he  is  and  has  finds  this  state 
of  things  profitable;  but  he  who  would  like  to  be  and 
have  more  looks  around  for  this  *'more,"  and  finds  it  in 
the  power  of  other  persons.  Here  he  comes  upon  a  con- 
tradiction ;  as  a  person  no  one  is  inferior  to  another,  and 
yet  one  person  has  what  another  has  not  but  would  like 
to  have.  So,  he  concludes,  the  one  person  is  more  than 
the  other,  after  all,  for  the  former  has  what  he  needs, 
the  latter  has  not;  the  former  is  a  rich  man,  the  latter 
a  poor  man. 

He  now  asks  himself  further,  are  we  to  let  what  we 
rightly  buried  come  to  life  again?  are  we  to  let  this  circuit- 
ously  restored  inequality  of  persons  pass  ?  No ;  on  the  con- 
trary, we  must  bring  quite  to  an  end  what  was  only  half 
accomplished.  Our  freedom  from  another's  person  still 
lacks  the  freedom  from  what  the  other's  person  can  com- 
mand, from  what  he  has  in  his  personal  power — in  short, 
from  ''personal  property.''  Let  us  then  do  away  with 
personal  property.  Let  no  one  have  anything  any  longer, 
let  every  one  be  a — ragamuffin.  Let  property  be  imper- 
sonal, let  it  belong  to — society. 

Before  the  supreme  ruler,  the  sole  commander^  we 
had  all  become  equal,  equal  persons,  i.  e.  nullities. 

Before  the  supreme  proprietor  we  all  become  equal 
— ragamuffins.  For  the  present,  one  is  still  in  another's 
estimation  a  ''ragamuffin,"  a  "have-nothing" ;  but  then  this 
estimation  ceases.  We  are  all  ragamuffins  together,  and 
as  the  aggregate  of  Cummunistic  society  we  might  call 
ourselves  a  "ragamuffin  crew." 

When  the  proletarian  shall  really  have  founded  his 
purposed  "society"  in  which  the  interval  between  rich 
and  poor  is  to  be  removed,  then  he  will  be  a  ragamuffin. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  125 


for  then  he  will  feel  that  it  amounts  to  something  to  be  a 
ragamuffin,  and  might  lift  ''Ragamuffin''  to  be  an  hon- 
orable form  of  address,  just  as  the  Revolution  did  with 
the  word  "Citizen/'  Ragamuffin  is  his  ideal;  we  are  all 
to  become  ragamuffins. 

This  is  the  second  robbery  of  the  "personal''  in  the 
interest  of  "humanity."  Neither  command  nor  prop- 
erty is  left  to  the  individual;  the  State  took  the  for- 
mer, society  the  latter. 

Because  in  society  the  most  oppressive  evils  make 
themselves  felt,  therefore  the  oppressed  especially,  and 
consequently  the  members  in  the  lower  regions  of  so- 
ciety, think  they  find  the  fault  in  society,  and  make  it 
their  task  to  discover  the  right  society.  This  is  only 
the  old  phenomenon — that  one  looks  for  the  fault  first 
in  everything  but  himself,  and  consequently  in  the  State, 
in  the  self-seeking  of  the  rich,  etc.,  which  yet  have  pre- 
cisely our  fault  to  thank  for  their  existence. 

The  reflections  and  conclusions  of  Communism  look 
very  simple.  As  matters  lie  at  this  time — in  the  pres- 
ent situation  with  regard  to  the  State,  therefore — some, 
and  they  the  majority,  are  at  a  disadvantage  compared  to 
others,  the  minority.  In  this  state  of  things  the  former 
are  in  a  state  of  prosperity,  the  latter  in  a  state  of  need. 
Hence  the  present  state  of  things,  i.  e,  the  State,  must  be 
done  away  with.  And  what  in  its  place?  Instead  of  the 
isolated  state  of  prosperity — a  general  state  of  prosperity^ 
a  prosperity  of  all. 

Through  the  Revolution  the  bourgeoisie  became  ommip- 
otent,  and  all  inequality  was  abolished  by  every  one's 
being  raised  or  degraded  to  the  dignity  of  a  citizen:  the 
common  man — raised,  the  aristocrat — degraded ;  the  third 
estate  became  sole  estate — viz,,  the  estate  of — citizens  of 
the  State.  Now  Communism  responds:  Our  dignity  and 
our  essence  consist  not  in  our  being  all — the  equal  rhil- 
dren  of  our  mother,  the  State,  all  born  with  equal  claim 
to  her  love  and  her  protection,  but  in  our  all  existing  for 
each  other.  This  is  our  equality,  or  herein  we  are  equal 
in  that  we,  I  as  well  as  you  and  you  and- all  of  you,  are 


126  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


active  or  **labor''  each  one  for  the  rest;  in  that  each  of 
lis  is  a  laborer,  then.  The  point  for  us  is  not  what  we  are 
for  the  State  {viz.,  citizens),  not  our  citizenship,  there- 
fore, but  what  we  are  for  each  other — viz.,  that  each  of  us 
exists  only  through  the  other,  who,  caring  for  my  wants, 
at  the  same  time  sees  his  own  satisfied  by  me.  He  labors, 
e.  g.,  for  my  clothing  (tailor),  I  for  his  need  of  amuse- 
ment (comedy- writer,  rope-dancer,  etc.),  he  for  my  food 
(farmer,  etc.),  I  for  his  instruction  (scientist,  etc.).  It 
is  labor  that  constitutes  our  dignity  and  our — equality. 

What  advantage  does  citizenship  bring  us  ?  Burdens !  - 
And  how  high  is  our  labor  appraised?  As  low  as  pos- 
sible !  But  labor  is  our  sole  value  all  the  same ;  that  we 
are  laborers  is  the  best  thing  about  us,  this  is  our  signifi- 
cance in  the  world,  and  therefore  it  must  be  our  con- 
sideration too  and  must  come  to  receive  consideration. 
What  can  you  meet  us  with?  Surely  nothing  but — labor 
too.  Only  for  labor  or  services  do  we  owe  you  a  recom- 
pense, not  for  your  bare  existence ;  not  for  what  you  are 
for  yourselves  either,  but  only  for  what  you  are  for  us. 
By  what  have  you  claims  on  us  ?  Perhaps  by  your  high 
birth,  etc.?  No,  only  by  what  you  do  for  us  that  is  desir- 
able or  useful.  Be  it  thus  then:  we  are  willing  to  be 
worth  to  you  only  so  much  as  we  do  for  you ;  but  you  are 
to  be  held  likewise  by  us.  Services  determine  value— 
i.  e.  those  services  that  are  worth  something  to  us,  and 
consequently  labors  for  each  other,  labors  for  the  com- 
mon good.  Let  each  one  be  in  the  other^s  eyes  a  laborer. 
He  who  accomplishes  something  useful  is  inferior  to  none, 
or — all  laborers  (laborers,  of  course,  in  the  sense  of 
laborers  "for  the  common  good,"  i.  e.  communistic  labor- 
ers) are  equal.  But,  as  the  laborer  is  worth  his  wages.* 
let  the  wages  too  be  equal. 

As  long  as  faith  sufficed  for  man's  honor  and  dignity, 
no  labor,  however  harassing,  could  be  objected  to  if  it 
only  did  not  hinder  a  man  in  his  faith.  Now,  on  the 
contrary,  when  every  one  is  to  cultivate  himself  into  man, 


*  rin  German  an  exact  quotaition  of  Luke  IQ,  7.] 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  127 


condemning  a  man  to  machine-like  labor  amounts  to  the 
same  thing  as  slavery.  If  a  factory- worker  must  tire 
himself  to  death  twelve  hours  and  more,  he  is  cut  off 
from  becoming  man.  Every  labor  is  to  have  the  intent 
that  the  man  be  satisfied.  Therefore  he  must  become  a 
master  in  it  too,  i,  e,  'be  able  to  perform  it  as  a  totality. 
He  who  in  a  pin-factory  only  puts  on  the  heads,  only 
draws  the  wire,  etc.,  works,  as  it  were,  mechanically,  like 
a  machine;  he  remains  half -trained,  does  not  become  a 
master :  his  labor  cannot  satisfy  him,  it  can  only  fatigue 
him.  His  labor  is  nothing  taken  by  itself,  has  no  object 
in  itself,  is  nothing  complete  in  itself ;  he  labors  only  into 
another's  hands,  and  is  used  (exploited)  by  this  other. 
For  this  laborer  in  another's  service  there  is  no  enjoy- 
ment of  a  cultivated  mind,  at  most  crude  amusements: 
culture,  you  see,  is  barred  against  him.  To  be  a  good 
Christian  one  needs  only  to  believe,  and  that  can  be  done 
under  the  most  oppressive  circumstances.  Hence  the 
Christian-minded  take  care  only  of  the  oppressed  laborers' 
piety,  their  patience,  submission,  etc.  Only  so  long  as  the 
downtrodden  classes  were  Christians  could  they  bear  all 
their  misery :  for  Christianity  does  not  let  their  murmur- 
ings  and  exasperation  rise.  Now  the  hushing  of  desires 
is  no  longer  enough,  but  their  sating  is  demanded.  The 
bourgeoisie  has  proclaimed  the  gospel  of  the  enjoyment 
of  the  world,  of  material  enjoyment,  and  now  wonders 
that  this  doctrine  finds  adherents  among  us  poor :  it  has 
shown  that  not  faith  and  poverty,  but  culture  and  pos- 
sessions, make  a  man  blessed ;  we  proletarians  understand 
that  too. 

The  commonalty  freed  us  from  the  orders  and  arbi- 
trariness of  individuals.  But  that  arbitrariness  was  left 
which  springs  from  the  conjecture  of  situations,  and  may 
be  called  the  fortuity  of  circumstances ;  favoring  fortune, 
and  those  "favored  by  fortune,"  still  remain. 

When  e,  g.  a  branch  of  industry  is  ruined  and  thou- 
sands of  laborers  become  breadless,  people  think  reason- 
ably enough  to  acknowledge  that  it  is  not  the  individual 


128  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


who  must  bear  the  blame,  but  that  ''the  evil  lies  in  the 
situation." 

Let  us  change  the  situation  then,  but  let  us  change  it 
thoroughly,  and  so  that  its  fortuity  becomes  powerless, 
and  a  law!  Let  us  no  longer  be  slaves  of  chance!  Let 
us  create  a  new  order  that  makes  an  end  of  fluctuations. 
Let  this  order  then  be  sacred ! 

Formerly  one  had  to  suit  the  lords  to  come  to  anything ; 
after  the  Revolution  the  word  was  "Grasp  fortune T 
Luck-hunting  or  hazard-playing,  civil  life  was  absorbed 
in  this.  Then,  alongside  this,  the  demand  that  he  who 
has  obtained  something  shall  not  frivolousl.  stake  it  again. 

Strange  and  yet  supremely  natural  contradiction.  Com- 
petition, in  which  alone  civil  or  political  life  unrolls  itself, 
is  a  game  of  luck  through  and  through,  from  the  specula- 
tions of  the  exchange  down  to  the  solicitation  of  offices, 
the  hunt  for  customers,  looking  for  work,  aspiring  to 
promotion  and  decorations,  the  second-hand  dealer's 
petty  haggling,  etc.  If  one  succeeds  in  supplanting  and 
outbidding  his  rivals,  then  the  "lucky  throw"  is  made; 
foi  it  must  be  taken  as  a  piece  of  luck  to  begin  with  that 
the  victor  sees  himself  equipped  with  an  ability  (even 
though  it -has  been  developed  by  the  most  careful  in- 
dustry) against  which  the  others  do  not  know  how  to 
rise,  consequently  that — no  aibler  ones  are  found.  And 
now  those  who  ply  their  daily  lives  in  the  midst  of  these 
changes  of  fortune  without  seeing  any  harm  in  it  are 
seized  with  the  most  virtuous  indignation  when  their  own 
principle  appears  in  naked  form  and  "breeds  misfortune" 
as — hazard-playing.  Hazard-playing,  you  see,  is  too  clear, 
too  barefaced  a  competition,  and,  like  every  decided 
nakedness,  offends  honorable  modesty. 

The  Socialists  want  to  put  a  stop  to  this  activity  of 
chance,  and  to  form  a  society  in  which  men  are  no  longer 
dependent  on  fortune,  but  free. 

In  the  most  natural  way  in  the  world  this  endeavor  first 
utters  itself  as  hatred  of  the  "unfortunate"  against  the 
"fortunate,"  i.  e,,  of  those  for  whom  fortune  has  done 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  129 


httle  or  nothing,  against  those  for  whom  it  has  done 
everything. 

But  properly  the  ill-feeling  is  not  directed  against  the 
fortunate,  but  against  fortune,  this  rotten  spot  of  the 
commonalty. 

As  the  Communists  first  declare  free  activity  to  be 
man's  essence,  they,  like  all  work-day  dispositions,  need 
a  Sunday;  like  all  material  endeavors,  they  need  a  God, 
ail  uplifting  and  edification  alongside  their  witless  *'labor/' 

That  the  Communist  sees  in  you  the  man,  the  brother, 
IS  only  the  Sunday  side  of  Communism.  According  to  the 
work-day  side  he  does  not  by  any  means  take  you  as  man 
simply,  but  as  human  laborer  or  laboring  man.  The  first 
view  has  in  it  the  liberal  principle ;  in  the  second,  illiber- 
ality  is  concealed.  If  you  were  a  ''lazybones,"  he  would 
not  indeed  fail  to  recognize  the  man  in  you,  but  would 
endeavor  to  cleanse  him  as  a  ''lazy  man"  from  laziness 
and  to  convert  you  to  the  faith  that  labor  is  man's  "des- 
tiny and  calling." 

Therefore  he  shows  a  double  face:  with  the  one  he 
takes  heed  that  the  spiritual  man  be  satisfied,  with  the 
other  he  looks  about  him  for  means  for  the  material  or 
corporeal  man.  He  gives  man  a  twofold  post — an  office  of 
material  acquisition  and  one  of  spiritual. 

The  commonalty  had  thrown  open  spiritual  and  ma- 
terial goods,  and  left  it  with  each  one  to  reach  out  for 
<hem  if  he  liked. 

Communism  really  procures  them  for  each  one,  presses 
them  upon  him,  and  compels  him  to  acquire  them.  It  takes 
seriously  the  idea  that,  because  only  spiritual  and  material 
goods  make  us  men,  we  must  unquestionably  acquire  these 
goods  in  order  to  be  man.  The  commonalty  made  acquisi- 
tion free;  Communism  compels  to  acquisition,  and  recog- 
nizes only  the  acquirer,  him  who  practises  a  trade.  It  is 
not  enough  that  the  trade  is  free,  but  you  must  take  it  up. 

So  all  that  is  left  for  criticism  to  do  is  to  prove  that  • 
the  acquisition  of  these  goods  does  not  yet  by  any  means 
make  us  men. 

With  the  liberal  commandment  that  every  one  is  to 


130 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


make  a  man  of  himself,  or  every  one  to  make  himself 
man,  there  was  posited  the  necessity  that  every  one  must 
gain  time  for  this  labor  of  humanization,  i,  e,  that  it  should 
become  possible  for  every  one  to  labor  for  himself. 

The  commonalty  thought  it  had  brought  this  about  if  it 
handed  over  everything  human  to  competition,  but  gave 
the  individual  a  right  to  every  human  thing.  ''Each  may 
strive  after  ever)rthing !" 

Social  liberalism  finds  that  the  matter  is  not  settled 
with  the  "may/'  because  may  means  only  "it  is  forbid- 
den to  none"  but  not  "it  is  made  possible  to  every  one 
Hence  it  affirms  that  the  commonalty  is  liberal  only  with 
the  mouth  and  in  words,  supremely  illiberal  in  act.  It  on 
its  part  wants  to  give  all  of  us  the  means  to  be  able  to 
labor  on  ourselves. 

By  the  principle  of  labor  that  of  fortune  or  competition 
is  certainly  outdone.  But  at  the  san.e  time  the  laborer,  in 
his  consciousness  that  the  essential  thing  in  him  is  "the 
laborer,"  holds  himself  aloof  from  egoism  and  subjects 
himself  to  the  supremacy  of  a  society  of  laborers,  as  the 
commoner  clung  with  self -abandonment  to  the  competi- 
tion-State. The  beautiful  dream  of  a  "social  duty"  still 
continues  to  be  dreamed.  People  think  again  that  society 
gives  what  we  need  and  we  are  under  obligations  to  it  on 
that  account,  owe  it  everything."^  They  are  still  at  the 
point  of  wanting  to  serve  a  "supreme  giver  of  all  good." 
That  society  is  no  ego  at  all,  which  could  give,  bestow,  or 
grant,  but  an  instrument  or  means,  from  which  we  may 
derive  benefit ;  that  we  have  no  social  duties,  but  solely  in- 
terests for  the  pursuance  of  which  society  must  serve  us ; 
that  we  owe  society  no  sacrifice,  but,  if  we  sacrifice  any  - 
thing, sacrifice  it  ourselves— of  this  the  Socialists  do  not 
think,  because  they — as  liberals — are  imprisoned  in  the 
religious  principle,  and  zealously  aspire  after— a  sacred 
society,  such  as  the  State  was  hitherto. 

Society,  from  which  we  have  everything,  is  a  new 

*  Proudhon  C^Creation  de  r Ordre'*)  cries  out,  e.  g.y  p.  414, 
"In  industry  as  in  science,  »the  publication  of  an  invention  is  the. 
first  and  most  sacred  of  duties T*  i 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  131 


master,  a  new  spook,  a  new  ''supreme  being,''  which 
''takes  us  into  its  service  and  allegiance'' ! 

The  more  precise  appreciation  of  political  as  well  as 
social  liberalism  must  wait  to  find  its  place  further  on. 
For  the  present  we  pass  this  over,  in  order  first  to  sum- 
mon them  before  the  tribunal  of  humane  or  critical  lib- 
eralism. 

§  3. — Humane  Liberalism. 

As  liberalism  is  completed  in  self-critising,  "criticar''^' 
liberalism — in  which  the  critic  remains  a  liberal  and  does 
not  go  beyond  the  principle  of  liberalism,  Man — this  may 
distinctively  be  named  after  Man  and  called  the  "hu- 
mane." 

The  laborer  is  counted  as  the  most  material  and  egoisti- 
cal man.  He  does  nothing  at  all  for  humanity,  does 
everything  for  himself,  for  his  welfare. 

•  The  commonalty,  because  it  proclaimed  the  freedom 
of  Man  only  as  to  his  birth,  had  to  leave  him  in  the  claws 
of  the  un-human  man  (the  egoist)  for  the  rest  of  life. 
Hence  under  the  regime  of  political  liberalism  egoism 
has  an  immense  field  for  free  utilization. 

The  laborer  will  utilize  society  for  his  egoistic  ends- 
as  the  commoner  does  the  State.  You  have  only  an 
egoistic  end  after  all,  your  welfare!  is  the  humane  lib- 
eral's reproach  to  the  Socialist;  take  up  a  purely  human 
interest^  then  I  will  be  your  companion.    "But  to  this. 

*  [In  his  strictures  on  "criticism'*  Stirner  refers  to  a  special 
movement  known  by  that  name  in  the  early  forties  of  the  last 
century,  of  which  Bruno  Bauer  was  the  principal -exponent.  After 
his  official  separation  from  the  faculty  of  the  university  of  Bonn 
on  account  of  hrs  views  in  regard  to  the  Bible,  Bruno  Bauer  in 
1843  settled  near  Berlin  -and  founded  the  Allgemeine  Literatur- 
Zeitung,  in  which  he  and  his  friends,  at  war  with  ttheir  surround-, 
ings,  championed  the  "absolute  emancipation"  of  the  individual 
within  the  limits  of  *'pure  humanity"  and  fought  as  their  foe 
"the  mass/'  comprehending  in  that  term  the  radical  aspirations 
of  political  liberalism  and  the  communistie  demands  of  the  rising 
Socialist  movement  of  that  time.  For  a  brief  account  of  Bruno 
Bauer's  movement  of  criticism,  see  John  Henry  Mackay,  ''Max 
Stirner.   Sein  Leben  und  sein  Werk.''] 


132  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


there  belongs  a  consciousness  stronger,  more  comprehen- 
sive, than  a  laborer-consciousness/'  *'The  laborer  makes 
nothing,  therefore  he  has  nothing;  but  he  makes  nothing 
because  his  labor  is  always  a  labor  that  remains  individ- 
ual, calculated  strictly  for  his  own  want,  a  labor  day  by 
day/''^  In  opposition  to  this  one  might,  for  instance, 
consider  the  fact  that  Gutenberg's  labor  did  not  remain 
mdividual,  but  begot  innumerable  children,  and  still  lives 
to-day ;  it  was  calculated  for  the  want  of  humanity,  and 
was  an  eternal,  imperishable  labor. 

The  humane  consciousness  despises  the  commoner-con- 
sciousness as  well  as  the  laborer-consciousness;  for  the 
commoner  is  ''indignant''  only  at  vagabonds  (at  all  who 
have  ''no  definite  occupation")  and  their  "immorality"; 
the  laborer  is  "disgusted"  by  the  idler  ("lazybones") 
and  his  "immoral,"  because  parasitic  and  unsocial,  prin- 
ciples. To  this  the  humane  liberal  retorts:  The  unset- 
tledness  of  many  is  only  your  product,  Philistine!  But 
that  you,  proletarian,  demand  the  grijid  of  all,  and  want 
to  make  drudgery  general,  is  a  part,  still  clinging  to  you, 
of  your  packmule  life  up  to  this  time.  Certainly  you 
want  to  lighten  drudgery  itself  by  all  having  to  drudge 
equally  hard,  yet  only  for  this  reason,  that  all  may  gain 
leisure  to  an  equal  extent.  But  what  are  they  to  do  with 
their  leisure?  What  does  your  "society"  do,  that  this 
leisure  may  be  passed  humanly f  It  must  leave  the 
gained  leisure  to  egoistic  preference  again,  and  the  very 
aain  that  your  society  furthers  falls  to  the  egoist,  as  the 
gain  of  the  commonalty,  the  masterlessness  of  man,  could 
not  be  filled  with  a  human  element  by  the  State,  and 
therefore  was  left  to  arbitrary  choice. 

It  is  assuredly  necessary  that  man  be  masterless :  but 
therefore  the  egoist  is  not  to  become  master  over  man 
again  either,  but  man  over  the  egoist.  Man  must  as- 
suredly find  leisure:  but,  if  the  egoist  makes  use  of  it, 
it  will  be  lost  for  man :  therefore  you  ought  to  have  given 
leisure  a  human  significance.  But  you  laborers  under- 
take even  your  labor  from  an  egoistic  impulse,  because 


*  Br.  Bauer,  ''Lit.  Ztgr  V.  18. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  133 


you  want  to  eat,  drink,  live ;  how  should  you  be  less  egoists 
in  leisure?  You  labor  only  because  having  your  time  to 
yourselves  (idling)  goes  well  after  work  done,  and  what 
you  are  to  while  away  your  leisure  time  with  is  left 
to  chance. 

But,  if  every  door  is  to  be  bolted  against  egoism,  it 
would  be  necessary  to  strive  after  completely  "disinter- 
ested" action,  total  disinterestedness.  This  alone  is  hu- 
man, because  only  Man  is  disinterested,  the  egoist  always 
interested. 

If  ye  let  disinterestedness  pass  unchallenged  for  a  while, 
then  we  ask,  do  you  mean  not  to  take  an  interest  in  any- 
thing, not  to  be  enthusiastic  for  anything,  not  for  liberty, 
humanity,  etc.?  ''Oh,  yes,  but  that  is  not  an  egoistic 
interest,  not  interestedness,  but  a  human,  i.  e.  a — theoreti- 
cal interest,  to  wit,  an  interest  not  for  an  individual  or 
individuals  ('alF),  but  for  the  idea,  for  Man!" 

And  you  do  not  notice  that  you  too  are  enthusiastic 
only  for  your  idea,  your  idea  of  liberty? 

And,  further,  do  you  not  notice  that  your  disinter- 
estedness is  again,  like  religious  disinterestedness,  a  heav- 
enly interestedness  ?  Certainly  benefit  to  the  individual 
leaves  you  cold,  and  abstractly  you  could  cry  fiat  libertas, 
per  eat  mundus.  You  do  not  take  thought  for  the  com- 
ing day  either,  and  take  no  serious  care  for  the  in- 
dividual's wants  anyhow,  not  for  your  own  comfort  nor- 
for  that  of  the  rest;  but  you  make  nothing  of  all  this, 
because  you  are  a — dreamer. 

Do  you  suppose  the  humane  liberal  will  be  so  Hberai 
as  to  aver  that  everything  possible  to  man  is  human f 
On  the  contrary !  He  does  not,  indeed,  share  the  Philis- 
tine's moral  prejudice  about  the  strumpet,  but  "that  this 
woman  turns  her  body  into  a  money-getting  machine"* 
makes  her  despicable  to  him  as  "human  being."  His 
judgment  is,  The  strumpet  is  not  a  human  bein^;  or.  So 
far  as  a  woman  is  a  strumpet,  so  far  is  she  unhuman,  do- 


"Lit.  Ztgr  V,  26. 


134 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


humanized.  Further:  The  Jew,  the  Christian,  th^  pri- 
vileged person,  the  theologian,  etc.,  is  not  a  human  being ; 
so  far  as  you  are  a  Jew,  etc.,  you  are  not  a  human  being. 
Again  the  imperious  postulate:  Cast  from  you  everything 
peculiar,  criticize  it  away !  Be  not  a  Jew,  not  a  Christian, 
etc.,  but  be  a  human  being,  nothing  but  a  human  being. 
Assert  your  humanity  against  every  restrictive  specifica- 
tion; make  yourself,  by  means  of  it,  a  human  being,  and 
free  irom  those  limits;  make  yourself  a  "free  man," 
i,  e.^  recognize  humanity  as  your  all-determining  essence. 

I  say:  You  are  indeed  more  than  a  Jew,  more  than 
a  Christian,  etc.,  but  you  are  also  more  than  a  human 
being.  Those  are  all  ideas,  but  you  are  corporeal.  Do 
you  suppose,  then,  that  you  can  ever  become  "a  human 
being  as  such"?  Do  you  suppose  our  posterity  will  find 
no  prejudices  and  limits  to  clear  away,  for  which  our 
powers  were  not  suf?icient?  Or  do  you  perhaps  think 
that  in  your  fortieth  or  fiftieth  year  you  have  come  so 
far  that  the  following  days  have  nothing  more  to  dissi- 
pate in  you,  and  that  you  are  a  human  being  ?  The  men 
of  the  future  will  yet  fight  their  way  to  many  a  liberty 
that  we  do  not  even  miss.  What  do  you  need  that  later 
liberty  for?  If  you  meant  to  esteem  yourself  as  nothing 
before  you  had  become  a  human  being,  you  would  have 
to  wait  till  the  "last  judgment,"  till  the  day  when  man, 
or  humanity,  shall  have  attained  perfection.  But,  as 
you  will  surely  die  before  that,  what  becomes  of  your 
prize  of  victory? 

Rather,  therefore,  invert  the  case,  and  say  to  yourself, 
/  am  a  human  being!  I  do  not  need  to  begin  by  produc- 
ing the  human  being  in  myself,  for  he  belongs  to  me 
already,  like  all  my  qualities. 

But,  asks  the  critic,  how  can  one  be  a  Jew  and  a  man 
at  once?  In  the  first  place,  I  answer,  one  cannot  be 
either  a  Jew  or  a  man  at  all,  if  "one"  and  Jew  or  man  are 
to  mean  the  same:  "one"  alwavs  reaches  bevond  those 
specifications,  and — let  Isaacs  be  ever  so  Jewish — a  Jew, 
nothine  but  a  Tew,  he  cannot  be.  iust  because  he  is  this 
Jew.    In  the  second  place,  as  a  Tew  one  assuredlv  cannot 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  135 


be  a  man,  if  being  a  man  means  being  nothing  special. 
But  in  the  third  place — -and  this  is  the  point — can,  as 
a  Jew,  be  entirely  what  I — can  be.  From  Samuel  or 
Moses,  and  others,  you  hardly  expect  that  they  should 
have  raised  themselves  above  Judaism,  although  you  must 
say  that  they  were  not  yet  "men/'  They  simply  were 
what  they  could  be.  It  is  otherwise  with  the  Jews  of  to- 
day? Because  you  have  discovered  the  idea  of  human- 
ity, does  it  follow  from  this  that  every  Jew  can  become  a 
convert  to  it  ?  If  he  can,  he  does  not  fail  to,  and,  if  he  fails 
to,  he  cannot.  What  does  your  demand  concern  him? 
What  the  call  to  be  a  man,  which  you  address  to  him  ? 

As  a  universal  principle,  in  the  ''human  society''  which 
the  humane  liberal  promises,  nothing  "special"  which 
one  or  another  has  is  to  find  recognition,  nothing  which 
bears  the  character  of  ''private"  is  to  have  value.  In 
this  way  the  circle  of  liberalism,  which  has  its  good  prin- 
ciple in  man  and  human  liberty,  its  bad  in  the  egoist  and 
everything  private,  its  God  in  the  former,  its  devil  in 
the  latter,  rounds  itself  off  completely ;  and,  if  the  special 
or  private  person  lost  his  value  in  the  State  (no  personal 
prerogative),  if  in  the  "laborers'  or  ragamuffins'  society" 
special  (private)  property  is  no  longer  recognized,  so  in 
"human  society"  everything  special  or  private  will  be  left 
out  of  account ;  and,  when  "pure  criticism"  shall  have  ac- 
complished its  arduous  task,  then  it  will  be  known  just 
what  we  must  look  upon  as  private,  and  what,  "penetrated 
with  a  sense  of  our  nothingness,"  we  must — let  stand. 

Because  State  and  society  do  not  suffice  for  humane 
liberalism,  it  negates  both,  and  at  the  same  time  retains 
them.  So  at  one  time  the  cry  is  that  the  task  of  the  day 
is  "not  a  political,  but  a  social  one,"  and  then  again  the 
"free  State"  is  promised  for  the  future.  In  truth,  "hu- 
man society"  is  both — the  most  general  State  and  the 
most  general  society.  Only  against  the  limited  State  is 
it  asserted  that  it  makes  too  much  stir  about  spiritual 
private  interests  (c.  g.  people's  religious  belief),  and 
against  limited  society  that  it  makes  too  much  of  ma- 


136 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


terial  private  interests.  Both  are  to  leave  private  inter- 
ests to  private  people,  and,  as  human  society,  concern 
themselves  solely  about  general  human  interests. 

The  politicians,  thinking  to  abolish  personal  will,  self- 
will  or  arbitrariness,  did  not  observe  that  through  prop- 
erty"^ our  self-will'\  gained  a  secure  place  of  refuge. 

The  Socialists,  taking  away  property  too,  do  not  no- 
tice that  this  secures  itself  a  continued  existence  in  self- 
ownership.  Is  it  only  money  and  goods,  then,  that  are 
a  property,  or  is  every  opinion  something  of  mine,  some- 
thing of  my  own? 

So  every  opinion  must  be  abolished  or  made  imper- 
sonal. The  person  is  entitled  to  no  opinion,  but,  as 
self-will  was  transferred  to  the  State,  property  to  society, 
so  opinion  too  must  be  transferred  to  something  gen- 
eral, "Man,''  and  thereby  become  a  general  human 
opinion. 

If  opinion  persists,  then  I  have  my  God  (why,  God 
exists  only  as  ''my  God,"  he  is  an  opinion  or  my  "faith"), 
and  consequently  my  faith,  my  religion,  my  thoughts, 
my  ideals.  Therefore  a  general  human  faith  must  come 
into  existence,  the  ''fanaticism  of  liberty."  For  this 
would  be  a  faith  that  agreed  with  the  "essence  of  man,'* 
and,  because  only  "man"  is  reasonable  (you  and  I  might 
be  very  unreasonable !),  a  reasonable  faith. 

As  self-will  and  property  become  powerless,  so  must 
self-ownership  or  egoism  in  general. 

In  this  supreme  development  of  "free  man"  egoism, 
self-ownership,  is  combated  on  principle,  and  such  sub- 
ordinate ends  as  the  social  "welfare"  of  the  Socialists, 
etc.,  vanish  before  the  lofty  "idea  of  humanity."  Every- 
thing that  is  not  a  "general  human"  entity  is  something 
separate,  satisfies  only  some  or  one ;  or,  if  it  satisfies  all, 
it  does  this  to  them  only  as  individuals,  not  as  men,  and 
is  therefore  called  "egoistic." 

To  the  Socialists  welfare  is  still  supreme  aim,  as  free 
rivalry  was  the  approved  thing  to  the  political  liberals; 
now  welfare  is  free  too,  and  we  are  free  to  achieve  wel- 

*  [Eigentum^  **owndom."]  t  [Eigenwille,  "own-will."] 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  137 


fare,  just  as  he  who  wanted  to  enter  into  rivalry  (com- 
petition) was  free  to  do  so. 

But  to  take  part  in  the  rivalry  you  need  only  to  be 
commoners;  to  take  part  in  the  welfare,  only  to  be  lab- 
orers. Neither  reaches  the  point  of  being  synonymous 
with  "man.''  It  is  "truly  well"  with  man  only  when  he 
is  also  "intellectually  free"!  For  man  is  mind:  there- 
fore all  powers  that  are  alien  to  him,  the  mind — all  super- 
human, heavenly,  unhuman  powers — must  be  overthrown, 
and  the  name  "man"  must  be  above  every  name. 

So  in  this  end  of  the  modern  age  (age  of  the  moderns) 
there  returns  again,  as  the  main  point,  what  had  been 
the  main  point  at  its  beginning:  "intellectual  liberty." 

To  the  Communist  in  particular  the  humane  liberal 
says :  If  society  prescribes  to  you  your  activity,  then  this 
is  indeed  free  from  the  influence  of  the  individual,  i,  e. 
the  egoist,  but  it  still  does  not  on  that  account  need  to 
be  a  purely  human  activity,  nor  you  to  be  a  complete  or- 
gan of  humanity.  What  kind  of  activity  society  demands 
of  you  remains  accidental,  you  know ;  it  might  give  you 
a  place  in  building  a  temple  or  something  of  that  sort, 
or,  even  if  not  that,  you  might  yet  on  your  own  impulse 
be  active  for  something  foolish,  therefore  unhuman;  yes, 
more  yet,  you  really  labor  only  to  nourish  yourself,  in 
general  to  live,  for  dear  life's  sake,  not  for  the  glorifica- 
tion of  humanity.  Consequently  free  activity  is  not  at- 
tained till  you  make  yourself  free  from  all  stupidities, 
from  everything  non-human,  i.  e.  egoistic  (pertaining  only 
to  the  individual,  not  to  the  Man  in  the  individual),  dis- 
sipate all  untrue  thoughts  that  obscure  man  or  the  idea 
of  humanity :  in  short,  when  you  are  not  merely  unham- 
pered in  your  activity,  but  the  substance  too  of  your 
activity  is  only  what  is  human,  and  you  live  and  work 
only  for  humanity.  But  this  is  not  the  case  so  long  as  the 
aim  of  your  effort  is  only  your  welfare  and  that  of  all ; 
what  you  do  for  the  society  of  ragamuffins  is  not  yet 
anything  done  for  "human  society." 

Laboring  does  not  alone  make  you  a  man,  because  it- 
is  something  formal  and  its  object  accidental;  the  ques- 


138 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


tion  is  who  you  that  labor  are.  As  far  as  laboring  goes, 
you  might  do  it  from  an  egoistic  (material)  impulse, 
merely  to  procure  nourishment  and  the  like ;  it  must  be  a 
labor  furthering  humanity,  calculated  for  the  good  of 
humanity,  serving  historical  (i.  e.  hurnan)  evolution — in 
short,  a  humane  labor.  This  implies  two  things ;  one,  that 
it  be  useful  to  humanity;  next,  that  it  be  the  work  of  a 
''man.''  The  first  alone  may  be  the  case  with  every  labor, 
as  even  the  labors  of  nature,  e,  g.  of  animals,  are  utilized 
by  humanity  for  the  furthering  of  science,  etc. ;  the  sec- 
ond requires  that  he  who  labors  should  know  the  human 
object  of  his  labor;  and,  as  he  can  have  this  conscious- 
ness only  when  he  knows  himself  as  man,  the  crucial  con- 
dition is — self-consciotisness. 

Unquestionably  much  is  already  attained  when  you 
cease  to  be  a  "'fragment-laborer,''"^  yet  therewith  you  only 
get  a  view  of  the  whole  of  your  labor,  and  acquire  a  con- 
sciounsness  about  it,  which  is  still  far  removed  from  a 
self-consciousness,  a  consciousness  about  your  true  '^self " 
or  "essence,"  Man.  The  laborer  has  still  remaining  the 
desire  for  a  "higher  consciousness,"  which,  because  the 
activity  of  labor  is  unable  to  quiet  it,  he  satisfies  in  a 
leisure  hour.  Hence  leisure  stands  by  the  side  of  his 
labor ^  and  he  sees  himself  compelled  to  proclaim  labor 
and  idling  human  in  one  breath,  yes,  to  attribute  the 
true  elevation  to  the  idler,  the  leisure-en j  oyer.  He  labors 
only  to  get  rid  of  labor ;  he  wants  to  make  labor  free,  only 
that  he  may  be  free  from  labor. 

In  fine,  his  work  has  no  satisfying  substance,  because 
it  is  only  imposed  by  society,  only  a  stint,  a  task,  a  call- 
ing; and,  conversely,  his  society  does  not  satisfy,  be- 
cause it  gives  only  work. 

His  labor  ought  to  satisfy  him  as  a  man;  instead  of 
that,  it  satisfies  society;  society  ought  to  treat  him  as 
a  man,  and  it  treats  him  as — a  rag-tag  laborer,  or  a  lab- 
oring ragamuffin. 


*  [Referring  to  minute  subdivision  of  labor,  whereby  the  single 
workman  produces,  not  a  whole,  but  a  part.] 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  139 


Labor  and  society  are  of  use  to  him  not  as  he  needs 
them  as  a  man,  but  only  as  he  needs  them  as  an  "egoist/' 

Such  is  the  attitude  of  criticism  toward  labor.  It 
points  to  "mind/'  wages  the  war  "of  mind  with  the 
masses,""^  and  pronounces  communistic  labor  unintel- 
lectual  mass-labor.  Averse  to  labor  as  they  are,  the 
masses  love  to  make  labor  easy  for  themselves.  In  lit- 
erature, which  is  to-day  furnished  in  mass,  this  aversion 
to  labor  begets  the  universally-known  superficiality, 
which  puts  from  it  ^'the  toil  of  research. "f 

Therefore  humane  liberalism  says  :  You  want  labor ; 
all  right,  we  want  it  likewise,  but  we  want  it  in  the 
fullest  measure.  We  want  it,  not  that  we  may  gain 
spare  time,  but  that  we  may  find  all  satisfaction  in  it 
itself.  We  want  labor  because  it  is  our  self -develop- 
ment. 

But  then  the  labor  too  must  be  adapted  to  that  end! 
Man  is  honored  only  by  human,  self-conscious  labor, 
only  by  the  labor  that  has  for  its  end  no  "egoistic"  pur- 
pose, but  Man,  and  is  Man's  sei  f -revelation ;  so  that 
the  saying  should  be  laboro,  ergo  sum,  I  labor,  therefore 
I  am  a  man.  The  humane  liberal  wants  that  labor  of 
the  mind  which  works  np  all  material ;  he  wants  the 
mind,  that  leaves  no  thing  quiet  or  in  its  existing  condi- 
tion, that  asquiesces  in  nothing,  analyzes  everything, 
criticises  anew  every  result  that  has  been  gained.  This 
restless  mind  is  the  true  laborer,  it  obliterates  preju- 
dices, shatters  limits  and  narrownesses,  and  raises  man 
above  everything  that  would  like  to  dominate  over  him, 
while  the  Communist  labors  only  for  himself,  and  not 
even  freely,  but  from  necessity — in  short,  represents  a 
man  condemned  to  hard  labor. 

The  laborer  of  such  a  type  is  not  "egoistic,''  because 
he  does  not  labor  for  individuals,  neither  for  himself  nor 
for  other  individuals,  nor  for  private  men  therefore,  but 
for  humanity  and  its  progress ;  he  does  not  ease  individual 
pains,  does  not  care  for  individual  wants,  but  removes 


*  ''Lit.  Ztgr  V.  2L 


f  "Lit.  'Ztg.''  ibid. 


140 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


limits  within  which  humanity  is  pressed,  dispels  preju- 
dices which  dominate  an  entire  time,  vanquishes  hin- 
drances that  obstruct  the  path  of  all,  clears  away  errors 
in  which  men  entangle  themselves,  discovers  truths 
which  are  found  through  him  for  all  and  for  all  time; 
in  short — he  lives  and  labors  for  humanity. 

Now,  in  the  first  place^  the  discoverer  of  a  great  truth 
doubtless  knows  that  it  can  be  useful  to  the  rest  of 
men,  and,  as  a  jealous  withholding  furnishes  him  no 
enjoyment,  he  communicates  it;  but,  even  though  he 
has  the  consciousness  that  his  communication  is  highly 
valuable  to  the  rest,  yet  he  has  in  no  wise  sought  and 
found  his  truth  for  the  sake  of  the  rest,  but  for  his 
own  sake,  because  he  himself  desired  it,  because  dark- 
ness and  fancies  left  him  no  rest  till  he  had  procured 
for  himself  light  and  enlightenment  to  the  best  of  his 
powers. 

He  labors,  therefore,  for  his  own  sake  and  for  the 
satisfaction  of  his  want.  That  along  with  this  he 
was  also  useful  to  others,  yes,  to  posterity,  does  not  take 
from  his  labor  the  egoistic  character. 

In  the  next  place,  if  he  did  labor  only  on  his  own 
account,  like  the  rest,  why  should  his  act  be  human, 
those  of  the  rest  unhuman,  i.  e.  egoistic?  Perhaps 
because  this  book,  painting,  symphony,  etc.,  is  the  labor 
of  his  whole  being,  because  he  has  done  his  best  in  it, 
has  spread  himself  out  wholly  and  is  wholly  to  be 
known  from  it,  while  the  work  of  a  handicraftsman 
mirrors  only  the  handicraftsman,  i.  e.  the  skill  in  han- 
dicraft, not  *'the  man''?  In  his  poems  we  have  the 
whole  Schiller ;  in  so  many  hundred  stoves,  on  the  other 
hand,  we  have  before  us  only  the  stove-maker,  not  ''the 
man." 

But  does  this  mean  more  than  ''in  the  one  work  you 
see  me  as  completely  as  possible,  in  the  other  only  my 
skill"?  Is  it  not  me  again  that  the  act  expresses?  And 
is  it  not  more  egoistic  to  ofifer  oneself  to  the  world  in 
a  work,  to  work  out  and  shape  oneself,  than  to  remain 
concealed  behind  one's  labor?    You  say,  to  be  sure, 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  141 


that  you  are  revealing  Man.  But  the  Man  that  you 
reveal  is  you;  you  reveal  only  yourself,  yet  with  this 
distinction  from  the  handicraftsman — that  he  does  not 
understand  how  to  compress  himself  into  one  labor, 
but,  in  order  to  be  known  as  himself,  must  be  searched 
out  in  his  other  relations  of  life,  and  that  your  want, 
through  whose  satisfaction  that  work  came  into  being, 
was  a — theoretical  want. 

But  you  will  reply  that  you  reveal  quite  another  man, 
a  worthier,,  higher,  greater,  a  man  that  is  more  man  than 
that  other.  I  will  assume  that  you  accomplish  all  that 
is  possible  to  man,  that  you  bring  to  pass  what  no  other 
succeeds  in.  Wherein,  then,  does  yor  greatness  consist? 
Precisely  in  this,  that  you  are  more  than  other  men 
(the  "masses''),  more  than  mot  ordinarily  are,  more 
than  "ordinary  men" ;  precisely  in  your  elevation  above 
men.  You  are  distinguished  beyond  other  men  not  by 
being  man,  but  because  you  are  a  "unique''"^  man.  Doubt- 
less you  show  what  a  man  can  do ;  but  because  you,  a 
man,  do  it,  this  by  no  means  shows  that  others,  also 
men,  areable  to  do  as  much ;  you  have  executed  it  only 
as  a  unique  man,  and  are  unique  therein. 

It  is  not  man  that  makes  up  your  greatness,  but  you 
create  it,  because  you  are  more  than  man,  and  mightier 
than  other — men. 

It  is  believed  that  one  cannot  be  more  than  man. 
Rather,  one  cannot  be  less! 

It  is  believed  further  that  whatever  one  attains  is 
good  for  Man.  In  so  far  as  I  remain  at  all  times  a 
man — or,  like  Schiller,  a  Swabian ;  like  Kant,  a  Prus- 
sian; like  Gustave  Adolphus,  a  near-sighted  person 
— I  certainly  become  by  my  superior  qualities  a  notable 
man,  Swabian,  Prussian,  or  near-sighted  person.  But 
the  case  is  not  much  better  with  that  than  with  Fred- 
erick the  Great's  cane,  which  became  famous  for  Fred- 
erick's sake. 

To  "Give  God  the  glory''  corresponds  the  modern 


*  einziger'^ 


142  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


''Give  Man  the  glory."  But  I  mean  to  keep  it  for  my- 
self. 

Criticism,  issuing  the  summons  to  man  to  be  ''hu- 
man/' enunciates  the  necessary  condition  of  sociability; 
for  only  as  a  man  among  men  is  one  companionable. 
Herewith  it  makes  known  its  social  object,  the  estab- 
lishment of  "human  society." 

Among  social  theories  criticism  is  indisputably  the 
most  complete,  because  it  removes  and  deprives  of  value 
everything  that  separates  man  from  man;  all  preroga- 
tives, down  to  the  prerogative  of  faith.  In  it  the  love- 
principle  of  Christianity,  the  true  social  principle,  comes 
to  the  purest  fulfilment,  and  the  last  possible  experiment 
is  tried  to  take  away  exclusiveness  and  repulsion  from 
men :  a  fight  against  egoism  in  its  simplest  and  there- 
fore hardest  form,  in  the  form  of  singleness,"^  exclu- 
isveness  itself. 

"How  can  you  live  a  truly  social  life  so  long  as  even 
one  exclusiveness  still  exists  between  you  ?" 

I  ask  conversely.  How  can  you  be  truly  single  so 
long  as  even  one  connection  still  exists  between  you? 
If  you  are  connected,  you  cannot  leave  each  other;  if 
a  "tie"  clasps  you,  you  are  something  only  with  anotherj, 
and  twelve  of  you  make  a  dozen,  thousands  of  you  a 
people,  millions  of  you  humanity. 

"Only  when  you  are  human  can  you  keep  company 
with  each  other  as  men,  just  as  you  can  understand 
each  other  as  patriots  only  when  you  are  patriotic!" 

All  right;  then  I  answer,  Only  when  you  are  single 
can  you  have  intercourse  with  each  other  as  what  you 
are. 

•  It  is  precisely  the  keenest  critic  who  is  hit  hardest 
by  the  curse  of  his  principle.  Putting  from  him  one 
exclusive  thing  after  another,  shaking  oflF  churchliness, 
patriotism,  etc.,  he  undoes  one  tie  after  another  and  sepa- 
rates himself  from  the  churchly  man,  from  the  patriot, 
etc.,  till  at  last,  when  all  ties  are  undone,  he  stands — 


*  [Einzigkeit] 


I 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  143 


alone.  He,  of  all  men,  must  exclude  all  that  have 
anything  exclusive  or  private;  and,  when  you  get  to  the 
bottom,  what  can  be  more  exclusive  than  the  exclusive, 
single  person  himself ! 

Or  does  he  perhaps  think  that  the  situation  would 
be  better  if  all  became  "men"  and  gave  up  exclusive- 
ness?  Why,  for  the  very  reason  that  "slV  means  ''every 
individual"  the  most  glaring  contradiction  is  still  main- 
tained, for  the  ''individual"  is  exclusiveness  itself.  If 
the  humane  liberal  no  longer  concedes  to  the  individual 
anything  private  or  exclusive,  any  private  thought,  any 
private  folly ;  if  he  criticises  everything  away  from  him 
before  his  face,  since  his  hatred  of  the  private  is  an 
absolute  and  fanatical  hatred ;  if  he  knows  no  tolerance 
toward  what  is  private,  because  everything  private  is 
unhuman — yet  he  cannot  criticise  away  the  private  per- 
son himself,  since  the  hardness  of  the  individual  person 
resists  his  criticism,  and  he  must  be  satisfied  with  de- 
claring this  person  a  ''private  person"  and  really  leav- 
ing everything  private  to  him  again. 

What  will  the  society  that  no  longer  cares  about  any- 
thing private  do?  Make  the  private  impossible?  No, 
but  "subordinate  it  to  the  interests  of  society,  and,  e.  g., 
leave  it  to  private  will  to  institute  holidays  as  many 
as  it  chooses,  if  only  it  does  not  come  in  collision  with 
the  general  interest."*  Everything  private  is  left  free; 
i,  e.  it  has  no  interest  for  society. 

"By  their  raising  of  barriers  against  science  the 
church  and  religiousness  have  declared  that  they  are 
what  they  always  were,  only  that  this  was  hidden  under 
another  semblance  when  they  were  proclaimed  to  be 
the  basis  and  necessary  foundation  of  the  State — 
a  matter  of  purely  private  concern.  Even  when  they 
were  connected  with  the  State  and  made  it  Christian, 
they  were  only  the  proof  that  the  State  had  not  yet 
developed  its  general  political  idea,  that  it  was  only 
instituting  private   rights — they  were   only  the  high- 


*  BrunO'  Bauer,  ''Judenfrage''  p.  66. 


144  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


est  expression  for  the  fact  that  the  State  was  a  private 
affair  and  had  to  do  only  with  private  affairs.  When 
the  State  shall  at  last  have  the  courage  and  strength  to 
fulfil  its  general  destiny  and  to  be  free ;  when,  there- 
fore, it  is  also  able  to  give  separate  interests  and  pri- 
vate concerns  their  true  position — then  religion  and  the 
church  will  be  free  as  they  have  never  been  hitherto. 

'  As  a  matter  of  the  most  purely  private  concern,  and  a 
satisfaction  of  purely  personal  want,  they  will  be  left 

I  to  themselves ;  and  every  individual,  every  congregation 
and  ecclesiastical  communion,  will  be  able  to  care  for 
the  blessedness  of  their  souls  as  they  choose  and  as 
they  think  necessary.  Every  one  will  care  for  his  souFs 
blessedness  so  far  as  it  is  to  him  a  personal  want,  and 
will  accept  and  pay  as  spiritual  caretakeer  the  one  who 
seems  to  him  to  offer  the  best  guarantee  for  the  satis- 
faction of  his  want.  Science  is  at  last  left  entirely  out 
of  the  game."''' 

What  is  to  happen,  though?  Is  social  life  to  have 
an  end,  and  all  companionableness,  all  fraternization, 
everything  that  is  created  by  the  love  or  society  prin- 
ciple, to  disappear? 

As  if  one  will  not  always  seek  the  other  because  he 
needs  him;  as  if  one  must  not  accommodate  himself  to 
the  other  when  he  needs  him.  But  the  difference  is 
this,  that  then  the  individual  really  unites  with  the  in- 
dividual, while  formerly  they  were  bound  together  by 
a  tie ;  son  and  father  are  bound  together  before  major- 
ity, after  it  they  can  come  together  independently; 
before  it  they  belonged  together  as  members  of  the  fam- 
ily, after  it  they  unite  as  egoists ;  sonship  and  father- 
hood remain,  but  son  and  father  no  longer  pin  them- 
selves down  to  these. 

The  last  privilege,  in  truth,  is  "Man" ;  with  it  all  are 
privileged  or  invested.  For,  as  Bruno  Bauer  himself 
says,  "privilege  remains  even  when  it  is  extended  to  all.^f 


*  Bruno  Bauer,  '^Die  gute  Sache  der  Freiheit''  pp.  62-63. 
t  Bruno  Bauer,  ''Judenfrage"  p.  60. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  145 

Thus  liberalism  runs  its  course  in  the  following  trans- 
formations: 'Tirst,  the  individual  is  not  man,  there- 
fore his  individual  personality  is  of  no  account:  no 
personal  will,  no  arbitrariness,  no  orders  or  mandates  1 

''Second,  the  individual  has  nothing  human,  there- 
fore no  mine  and  thine,  or  property,  is  valid. 

''Third,  as  the  individual  neither  is  man  nor  has  any- 
thing human,  he  shall  not  exist  at  all:  he  shall,  as  an 
egoist  with  his  egoistic  belongings,  be  annihilated  by 
criticism  to  make  room  for  Man,  'Man,  just  discov- 
ered\" 

But,  although  the  individual  is  not  Man,  Man  is  yet 
present  in  the  individual,  and,  like  every  spook  and 
everything  divine,  has  its  existence  in  him.  Hence  po- 
litical liberalism  awards  to  the  individual  everything 
that  pertains  to  him  as  "a  man  by  birth,''  as  a  born 
man,  among  which  there  are  counted  liberty  of  con- 
science, the  possession  of  goods,  etc. — in  short,  the 
"rights  of  man'' ;  Socialism  grants  to  the  individual  what 
pertains  to  him  as  an  active  man,  as  a  "laboring"  man ; 
finally,  humane  liberalism  gives  the  individual  what  he 
has  as  "a  man,"  i.  e,  everything  that  belongs  to  human- 
ity. Accordingly  the  single  one*  has  nothing  at  all,  hu- 
manity everything;  and  the  necessity  of  the  "regenera- 
tion" preached  in  Christianity  is  demanded  unambigu- 
ously and  in  the  completest  measure.  Become  a  new 
creature,  become  "man" ! 

One  might  even  think  himself  reminded  of  the  close 
of  the  Lord's  Prayer.  To  Man  belongs  the  lordship 
(the  "power"  or  dynamis)  ;  therefore  no  individuals  may 
be  lord,  but  Man  is  the  lord  of  individuals: — Man's  is 
the  kingdom,  i.  e.  the  world,  consequently  the  individual 
is  not  to  be  proprietor,  but  Man,  "all,"  commands 
the  world  as  property; — to  Man  is  due  renown,  glori- 
ßcation  or  "glory"  (doxa)  from  all,  for  Man  or  hu- 
manity is  the  individual's  end,  for  which  he  labors, 


*  [Emsige] 


146  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


thinks,  lives,  and  for  whose  glorification  he  must  become 
"man." 

Hitherto  men  have  always  striven  to  find  out  a  fel- 
lowship in  which  their  inequalities  in  pther  respects 
should  become  ''non-essentiar' ;  they  strove  for  equali- 
zation, consequently  for  equality,  and  wanted  to  come 
all  under  one  hat,  which  means  nothing  less  than  that 
they  were  seeking  for  one  lord,  one  tie,  one  faith  ('^'Tis 
in  one  God  we  all  believe'').  There  cannot  be  for  men 
anything  more  fellowly  or  more  equal  than  Man  him- 
self^ and  in  this  fellowship  the  love-craving  has  found 
its  contentment;  it  did  not  rest  till  it  had  brought  on 
this  last  equalization,  leveled  all  inequality,  laid  man  on 
the  breast  of  man.  But  under  this  very  fellowship  de- 
cay and  ruin  become  most  glaring.  In  a  more  limited 
fellowship  the  Frenchman  still  stood  against  the  Ger- 
man, the  Christian  against  the  Mohammedan,  etc.  Now, 
on  the  contrary,  man  stands  against  men,  or,  as  men 
are  not  man,  man  stands  against  the  un-man. 

The  sentence  "God  has  become  man"  is  now  followed 
by  the  other,  "Man  has  become  I."  This  is  the  human 
L  But  we  invert  it  and  say :  I  was  not  able  to  find 
myself  so  long  as  I  sought  myself  as  Man.  But,  now 
that  it  appears  that  Man  is  aspiring  to  become  I  and 
to  gain  a  corporeity  in  me,  I  note  that,  after  all,  every- 
thing depends  on  me,  and  Man  is  lost  without  me.  But 
I  do  not  care  to  give  myself  up  to  be  the  shrine  of  this 
most  holy  thing,  and  shall  not  ask  henceforward  whether 
I  am  man  or  un-man  in  what  I  set  about;  let  this  spirit 
keep  off  my  neck ! 

Humane  liberalism  goes  to  work  radically.  If  you  want 
to  be  or  have  anything  especial  even  in  one  point,  if  you 
want  to  retain  for  yourself  even  one  prerogative  above 
others,  to  claim  even  one  right  that  is  not  a  "general 
right  of  man,"  you  are  an  egoist. 

Very  good!  I  do  not  want  to  have  or  be  anything 
especial  above  others,  I  do  not  want  to  claim  any  pre- 
rogative against  them,  but — I  do  not  measure  myself 
by  others  either,  and  do  not  want  to  have  any  right 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  147 


whatever.  I  want  to  be  all  and  have  all  that  I  can  be 
and  have.  Whether  others  are  and  have  anything  sim- 
ilar, what  do  I  care?  The  equal,  the  same,  they  can 
neither  be  nor  have.  I  cause  no  detriment  to  them,  as 
I  cause  no  detriment  to  the  rock  by  being  ''ahead  of  it" 
in  having  motion.  If  they  could  have  it,  they  would 
have  it. 

To  cause  other  men  no  detriment  is  the  point  of  the 
demand  to  possess  no  prerogative;  to  renounce  all  ''be- 
ing ahead,"  the  strictest  theory  of  renunciation.  One 
is  not  to  count  himself  as  "anything  especial,"  such  as 
e.  g.  a  Jew  or  a  Christian.  Well,  I  do  not  count  myself 
as  anything  especial,  but  as  unique,"^'  Doubtless  I  have 
similarity  with  others ;  yet  that  holds  good  only  for 
comparison  or  reflection ;  in  fact  I  am  incomparable, 
unique.  My  flesh  is  not  their  flesh,  my  mind  is  not 
their  mind.  If  you  bring  them  under  the  generalities 
"flesh,  mind,"  those  are  your  thoughts,  which  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  my  flesh,  my  mind,  and  can  least  of  all 
issue  a  "call"  to  mine. 

I  do  not  want  to  recognize  or  respect  in  you  any  thing, 
neither  the  proprietor  nor  the  ragamuffin,  nor  even  the 
man,  but  to  use  you.  In  salt  I  find  that  it  makes  food 
palatable  to  me,  therefore  I  will  dissolve  it;  in  the 
fish  I  recognize  an  aliment,  therefore  I  eat  it;  in  you  I 
discover  the  gift  of  making  my  life  agreeable,  therefore 
I  chose  you  as  a  companion.  Or,  in  salt  I  study  crys- 
tallization,, in  the  fish  animality,  in  you  men,  etc.  But 
to  me  you  are  only  what  you  are  for  me — to  wit,  my  ob- 
ject; and,  because  my  object,  therefore  my  property. 

In  humane  liberalism  ragamuffinhood  is  completed. 
We  must  first  come  down  to  the  most  ragamuffin-like, 
most  poverty-stricken  condition  if  we  want  to  arrive 
at  ownness,  for  we  must  strip  off  everything  alien.  But 
nothing  seems  more  ragamuffin-like  than  naked — Man. 

It  is  more  than  ragamuffinhood,  however,  when  I 
throw  away  Man  too  because  I  feel  that  he  too  is  alien 


*  [einsig] 


148  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


to  me  and  that  I  can  make  no  pretensions  on  that  basis. 
This  is  no  longer  mere  ragamuffinhood :  because  even 
the  last  rag  has  fallen  off,  here  stands  real  nakedness, 
denudation  of  everything  alien.  The  ragamuffin  has 
stripped  off  ragamuffinhood  itself,  and  therewith  has 
ceased  to  be  what  he  was,  a  ragamuffin. 


I  am  no  longer  a  ragamuffin,  but  have  been  one. 

Up  to  this  time  the  discord  could  not  come  to  an 
outbreak,  because  properly  there  is  current  only  a  con- 
tention of  modern  liberals  with  antiquated  liberals,  a 
contention  of  those  who  understand  ''freedom''  in  a 
small  measure  and  those  who  want  the  ''full  measure'' 
of  freedom ;  of  the  moderate  and  measureless,  therefore. 
Everything  turns  on  the  question,  how  free  must  man 
be?  That  man  must  be  free,  in  this  all  believe;  there- 
fore all  are  liberal  too.  But  the  un-man'*'  who  is  some- 
where in  every  individual,  how  is  he  blocked?  How 
can  it  be  arranged  not  to  leave  the  un-man  free  at  the 
same  time  with  man? 

Liberalism  as  a  whole  has  a  deadly  enemy,  an  invin- 
cible opposite,  as  God  has  the  devil :  by  the  side  of  man 
stands  always  the  un-man,  the  individual,  the  egoist. 
State,  society,  humanity,  do  not  master  this  devil. 

Humane  liberalism  has  undertaken  the  task  of  show- 
ing the  other  liberals  that  they  still  do  not  want  "free- 
dom." 

If  the  other  liberals  had  before  their  eyes  only  iso- 
lated egoism  and  were  for  the  most  part  blind,  radical 
liberalism  has  against  it  egoism  "in  mass,"  throws  among 
the  masses  all  who  do  not  make  the  cause  of  freedom 
their  own  as  it  does,  so  that  now  man  and  un-man,  rigor- 
ously separated,  stand  over  against  each  other  as  ene- 
mies, to  wit,  the  "masses"  and  "criticism"  ;t  namely, 

*  [It  should  be  remembered  that  to  be  an  Unmensch  ("un- 
man") one  must  be  a  man.  The  word  means  an  inhuman  or  un- 
human  man,  a  man  who  is  not  man.  A  tiger,  an  avalanche,  a 
drought,  a  cabbage,  is  not  an  un-man.] 

t  "Liu  Ztgr  V.23;sLS  comment,  V.  12  ff. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  149 


^'free,  human  criticism/'  as  it  is  called  Judenfrage,''  p. 
114),  in  opposition  to  crude,  e.  g.  religious,  criticism. 

Criticism  expresses  the  hope  that  it  will  be  victorious 
over  all  the  masses  and  "give  them  a  general  certificate 
of  insolvency.'^*  So  it  means  finally  to  make  itself  out 
m  the  right,  and  to  represent  all  contention  of  the  '^faint- 
hearted and  timorous"  as  an  egoistic  stuhbornness,X  as 
pettiness,  paltriness.  All  wrangling  loses  significance, 
and  petty  dissensions  are  given  up,  because  in  criticism  a 
common  enemy  enters  the  field.  *'You  are  egoists  alto- 
gether, one  no  better  than  another!"  Now  the  egoists 
stand  together  against  criticism. 

Really  the  egoists?  No,  they  fight  against  criticism 
precisely  because  it  accuses  them  of  egoism ;  they  do  not 
plead  guilty  of  egoism.  Accordingly  criticism  and  the 
masses  stand  on  the  same  basis;  both  fight  against  ego- 
ism, both  repudiate  it  for  themselves  and  charge  it  to 
each  other. 

Criticism  and  the  masses  pursue  the  same  goal,  free- 
dom from  egoism,  and  wrangle  only  over  which  of  them 
approaches  nearest  to  the  goal  or  even  attains  it. 

The  Jews,  the  Christians,  the  absolutists,  the  men  of 
darkness  and  men  of  light,  politicians,  Communists — all, 
in  short — hold  the  reproach  of  egoism  far  from  them; 
and,  as  criticism  brings  against  them  this  reproach  in 
plain  terms  and  in  the  most  extended  sense,  all  justify 
themselves  against  the  accusation  of  egoism,  and  com- 
bat— egoism,  the  same  enemy  with  whom  criticism  wages 
war. 

Both,  criticism  and  masses,  are  enemies  of  egoists,  and 
both  seek  to  liberate  themselves  from  egoism,  as  well  by 
clearing  or  whitewashing  themselves  as  by  ascribing  it 
to  the  opposite  party. 

The  critic  is  the  true  "spokesman  of  the  masses''  who 
gives  them  the  "simple  concept  and  the  phrase"  of  ego- 
ism, while  the  spokesmen  to  whom  the  triumph  is  denied 

ZtgrY.  1S~ 

t  [Rechthaberei^  literally  the  character  of  always  insisting  on 
making  one*s  self  out  to  be  in  the  right.] 


150  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


in  ''Lit.  ^tg/'  V.  24  were  only  bunglers.  He  is  their 
prince  and  general  in  the  war  against  egoism  for  free- 
dom; what  he  fights  against  they  fight  against.  But  at 
the  same  time  he  is  their  enemy  too,  only  not  the  enemy 
before  them,  but  the  friendly  enemy  who  wields  the  knout 
behind  the  timorous  to  force  courage  into  them. 

Hereby  the  opposition  of  criticism  and  the  masses  is 
reduced  to  the  following  contradiction :  ''You  are  ego- 
ists'' !  No,  we  are  nof !  *T  will  prove  it  to  you'' !  "You 
shall  have  our  justification"! 

Let  us  then  take  both  for  what  they  give  themselves 
out  for,  non-egoists  and  what  they  take  each  other  for, 
egoists.  They  are  egoists  and  are  not. 

Properly  criticism  says:  You  must  liberate  your  ego 
from  all  limitedness  so  entirely  that  it  becomes  a  human 
ego.  I  say:  Liberate  yourself  as  far  as  you  can,  and 
you  have  done  your  part ;  for  it  is  not  given  to  every  one 
to  break  through  all  limits,  or,  more  expressively:  not 
to  every  one  is  that  a  limit  which  is  a  limit  for  the  rest. 
Consequently,  do  not  tire  yourself  with  toiling  at  the 
limits  of  others ;  enough  if  you  tear  down  yours.  Who 
has  ever  succeeded  in  tearing  down  even  one  limit  for 
all  men?  Are  not  countless  persons  to-day,  as  at  all  times, 
running  about  with  all  the  ''limitations  of  humanity"? 
He  who  overturns  one  of  his  limits  may  have  shown 
others  the  way  and  the  means ;  the  overturning  of  their 
limits  remains  their  afifair.  Nobody  does  anything  else 
either.  To  demand  of  people  that  they  become  wholly 
men  is  to  call  on  them  to  cast  down  all  human  limits.  That 
IS  impossible,  because  Man  has  no  limits.  I  have  some 
indeed,  but  then  it  is  only  mine  that  concern  me  any,  and 
only  they  can  be  overcome  by  me.  A  human  ego  I  can- 
not become,  just  because  I  am  I  and  not  merely  man. 

Yet  let  us  still  see  whether  criticism  has  not  taught  us 
something  that  we  can  lay  to  heart !  I  am  not  free  if  I 
am  not  without  interests,  not  man  if  I  am  not  disinterest- 
ed? Well,  even  if  it  makes  little  difference  to  me  to  be 
free  or  man,  yet  I  do  not  want  to  leave  unused  anv  oc- 
casion to  realize  myself  or  make  myself  count.  Criticism 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  151 


offers  me  this  occasion  by  the  teaching  that,  if  anything 
plants  itself  firmly  in  me,  and  becomes  indissoluble,  I 
become  its  prisoner  and  servant,  i,  e,  a  possessed  man. 
An  interest,  be  it  for  what  it  may,  has  kidnapped  a  slave 
in  me  if  I  cannot  get  away  from  it,  and  is  no  longer  my 
property,  but  I  am  its.  Let  us  therefore  accept  criticism's 
lesson  to  let  no  part  of  our  property  become  stable,  and 
to  feel  comfortable  only  in — dissolving  it. 

So,  if  criticism  says :  You  are  man  only  when  you  are 
restlessly  criticising  and  dissolving !  then  we  say :  Man 
I  am  without  that,  and  I  am  I  likewise ;  therefore  I  want 
only  to  be  careful  to  secure  my  property  to  myself ;  and, 
in  order  to  secure  it,  I  continually  take  it  back  into  my- 
self, annihilate  in  it  every  movement  toward  indepen- 
dence, and  swallow  it  before  it  can  fix  itself  and  become 
a  "fixed  idea''  or  a  ''mania." 

But  I  do  that  not  for  the  sake  of  my  ''human  calling," 
but  because  I  call  myself  to  it.  I  do  not  strut  about  dis- 
solving everything  that  it  is  possible  for  a  man  to  dis- 
solve, and,  e.  g,,  while  not  yet  ten  years  old  I  do  not 
criticize  the  nonsense  of  the  Commandments,  but  I  am 
man  all  the  same,  and  act  humanly  in  just  this — that  I 
still  leave  them  uncriticised.  In  short,  I  have  no  calling, 
and  follow  none,  not  even  that  to  be  a  man. 

Do  I  now  reject  what  liberalism  has  won  in  its  various 
exertions  ?  Far  be  the  day  that  anything  won  should  be 
lost!  Only,  after  "Man"  has  become  free  through  lib- 
eralism, I  turn  my  gaze  back  upon  myself  and  confess  to 
myself  openly :  What  Man  seems  to  have  gained,  /  alone 
have  gained. 

Man  is  free  when  "Man  is  to  man  the  supreme  being.''' 
So  it  belongs  to  the  completion  of  liberalism  that  every 
other  supreme  being  be  annulled,  theology  overturned  by 
anthropology,  God  and  his  grace  laughed  down,  "athe- 
ism" universal. 

The  egoism  of  property  has  given  up  the  last  that  it 
had  to  give  when  even  the  "My  God"  has  become  sense- 
less; for  God  exists  only  when  he  has  at  heart  the  in- 
dividual's welfare,  as  the  latter  seeks  his  welfare  in  him. 


152 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


>  Political  liberalism  abolished  the  inequality  of  masters 
and  servants:  it  made  people  masterless,  anarchic.  The 
master  was  now  removed  from  the  individual,  the  ''ego- 
ist," to  become  a  ghost — the  law  or  the  State.  Social 
liberalism  abolishes  the  inequality  of  possession,  of  the 
poor  and  rich,  and  makes  people  possessionless  or  prop- 
ertyless.  Property  is  withdrawn  from  the  individual  and 
surrendered  to  ghostly  society.  Humane  liberalism  makes 
people  godless,  atheistic.  Therefore  the  individual's  God, 
"my  God,"  must  be  put  an  end  to.  Now  masterlessness  is 
indeed  at  the  same  time  freedom  from  service,  posses- 
sionlessness  at  the  same  time  freedom  from  care,  and 
godlessness  at  the  same  time  freedom  from  prejudice: 
for  with  the  master  the  servant  falls  away ;  with  posses- 
sion, the  care  about  it;  with  the  firmly-rooted  God,  pre- 
judice. But,  since  the  master  rises  again  as  State,  the 
servant  appears  again  as  subject;  since  possession  be- 
comes the  property  of  society,  care  is  begotten  anew  as 
labor;  and,  since  God  as  Man  becomes  a  prejudice,  there 
arises  a  new  faith,  faith  in  humanity  or  liberty.  For  the 
individual's  God  the  God  of  all,  vi^.^  "Man,"  is  now 
exalted;  "for  it  is  the  highest  thing  in  us  all  to  be  man." 
But,  as  nobody  can  become  entirely  what  the  idea  "man" 
imports,  Man  remains  to  the  individual  a  lofty  other 
world,  an  unattained  supreme  being,  a  God.  But  at  the 
same  time  this  is  the  "true  God,"  because  he  is  fully 
adequate  to  us — to  wit,  our  own  ''self ;  we  ourselves, 
but  separated  from  us  and  lifted  above  us. 


POSTCRIPT 

The  foregoing  review  of  "free  human  criticism"  was 
written  by  bits  immediately  after  the  appearance  of  the 
books  in  question,  as  was  also  that  which  elsewhere  refers 
to  writings  of  this  tendency,  and  I  did  little  more  than 
bring  together  the  fragments.  But  criticism  is  restlessly 
pressing  forward,  and  thereby  makes  it  necessary  for  me 
to  come  back  to  it  once  more,  now  that  my  book  is  fin- 
ished, and  insert  this  concluding  note. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  153 


I  have  before  me  the  latest  (eighth)  number  of  the 
Allgemeine  Literatur-Zeitung  '  of  Bruno  Bauer. 

There  again  ''the  general  interests  of  society''  stand  at 
the  top.  But  criticism  has  reflected,  and  given  this  ''socie- 
ty'' a  specification  by  which  it  is  discriminated  from  a 
form  which  previously  had  still  been  confused  with  it: 
the  "State,"  in  former  passages  still  celebrated  as  "free 
State,"  is  quite  given  up  because  it  can  in  no  wise  ful- 
fil the  task  of  "human  society."  Criticism  only  "saw  it- 
self compelled  to  identify  for  a  moment  human  and 
political  affairs"  in  1842;  but  now  it  has  found  that  the 
State,  even  as  "free  State,"  is  not  human  society,  or,  as 
it  could  likewise  say,  that  the  people  is  not  "man."  We 
saw  how  it  got  through  with  theology  and  showed  clearly 
that  God  sinks  into  dust  before  Man;  we  see  it  now  come 
to  a  clearence  with  politics  in  the  same  way,  and  show 
that  before  Man  peoples  and  nationalities  fall :  so  we 
see  how  it  has  its  explanation  with  Church  and  State, 
declaring  them  both  unhuman,  and  we  shall  see — for  it 
betrays  this  to  us  already — how  it  can  also  give  proof  that 
before  Man  the  "masses,"  which  it  even  calls  a  "spiritual 
being,"  appear  worthless.  And  how  should  the  lesser 
"spiritual  beings"  be  able  to  maintain  themselves  before 
the  supreme  spirit?    "Man"  casts  down  the  false  idols. 

So  what  the  critic  has  in  view  for  the  present  is  the 
scrutiny  of  the  "masses,"  which  he  will  place  before 
*'Man"  in  order  to  combat  them  from  the  standpoint  of 
Man.  "What  is  now  the  object  of  criticism?"  "The  mass- 
es, a  spiritual  being!"  These  the  critic  will  "learn  to 
know,"  and  will  find  that  they  are  in  contradiction  with 
Man;  he  will  demonstrate  that  they  are  unhuman,  and 
will  succeed  just  as  well  in  this  demonstration  as  in  the 
former  ones,  that  the  divine  and  the  national,  or  the 
concerns  of  Church  and  of  State,  were  the  unhuman. 

The  masses  are  defined  as  "the  most  significant  prod- 
uct of  the  Revolution,  as  the  deceived  multitude  which 
the  illusions  of  political  Illumination,  and  in  general  the 
entire  Illumination  movement  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
have  given  over  to  boundless  disgruntlement."   The  Rev- 


154 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


olution  satisfied  some  by  its  result,  and  left  others  unsatis- 
fied; the  satisfied  part  is  the  commonalty  (bourgeoisie, 
etc.),  themnsatisfied  is  the — masses.  Does  not  the  critic, 
so  placed,  himself  belong  to  the  "masses"? 

But  the  unsatisfied  are  still  in  great  mistiness,  and 
their  discontent  utters  itself  only  in  a  ''boundless  dis- 
gruntlement/'  This  the  likewise  unsatisfied  critic  now 
wants  to  master :  he  cannot  want  and  attain  more  than 
to  bring  that  "spiritual  being,"  he  masses,  out  of  its  dis- 
gruntlement,  and  to  "uplift"  those  who  were  only  dis- 
gruntled, i.  e.  to  give  them  the  right  attitude  toward  those 
results  of  the  Revolution  which  are  to  be  overcome ; — he 
can  become  the  head  of  the  masses,  their  decided  spokes- 
man. Therefore  he  wants  also  to  "abolish  the  deep 
chasm  vv^hich  parts  him  from  the  multitude."  From  those 
who  want  to  "uplift  the  lower  classes  of  the  people"  he 
is  distinguished  by  wanting  to  deliver  from  "disgruntle- 
ment,"  not  merely  these,  but  himself  too. 

But  assuredly  his  consciousness  does  hot  deceive  him 
either,  when  he  takes  the  masses  to  be  the  "natural  op- 
ponents of  theory,"  and  foresees  that,  "the  more  this 
theory  shall  develop  itself,  so  much  the  more  will  it  make 
the  masses  compact."  For  the  critic  cannot  enlighten  or 
satisfy  the  masses  with  his  presupposition,  Man.  If 
over  against  the  commonalty  they  are  only  the  "lower 
classes  of  the  people,"  politically  insignificant  masses, 
over  against  "Man"  they  must  still  more  be  mere  "mass- 
es," humanly  insignificant — yes,  unhuman — masses,  or  a 
multitude  of  un-men. 

The  critic  clears  away  everything  human;  and,  start- 
ing from  the  presupposition  that  the  human  is  the  true, 
he  works  against  himself,  denying  it  wherever  it  had 
been  hitherto  found.  He  proves  only  that  the  human  is 
to  be  found  nowhere  except  in  his  head,  but  the  unhuman 
everywhere.  The  unhuman  is  the  real,  the  extant  on  all 
hands,  and  by  the  proof  that  it  is  "not  human"  the  critic 
only  enunciates  plainly  the  tautological  setntence  that  it 
is  the  unhuman. 

But  what  if  the  unhuman,  turning  its  back  on  itself 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  155 


with  resolute  heart,  should  at  the  same  time  turn  away 
from  the  disturbing  critic  and  leave  him  standing,  un- 
touched and  unstung  by  his  remonstrance?  ''You  call  me 
the  unhuman,"  it  might  say  to  him,  ''and  so  I  really  am 
— for  you;  but  I  am  so  only  because  you  bring  me  into 
opposition  to  the  human,  and  I  could  despise  myself  only 
so  long  as  I  let  myself  be  hypnotized  into  this  opposition, 
I  was  contemptible  because  I  sought  my  'better  self  out- 
side me;  I  was  the  unhuman  because  I  dreamed  of  the 
'human' ;  I  resembled  the  pious  who  hunger  for  their 
*true  self  and  always  remain  'poor  sinners' ;  I  thought 
of  myself  only  in  comparison  to  another;  enough 
I  was  not  all  in  all,  was  not — unique,"^  But  now  I  cease 
to  appear  to  myself  as  the  unhuman,  cease  to  measure 
myself  and  let  myself  be  measured  by  man,  cease  to 
recognize  anything  above  me :  consequently — adieu,  hu- 
mane critic!  I  only  have  been  the  unhuman,  am  it  now 
no  longer,  but  am  the  unique,  yes,  to  your  loathing,  the 
egoistic;  yet  not  the  egoistic  as  it  lets  itself  be  measured 
by  the  human,  humane,  and  unselfish,  but  the  egoistic 
as  the — unique/' 

We  have  to  pay  attention  to  still  another  sentence  of 
the  same  number.  "Criticism  sets  up  no  dogmas  and 
wants  to  learn  to  know  nothing  but  things/' 

The  critic  is  afraid  of  becoming  "dogmatic"  or  set- 
ting up  dogmas.  Of  course:  why,  thereby  he  would 
become  the  opposite  of  the  critic — the  dogmatist;  he 
would  now  become  bad,  as  he  is  good  as  critic  or  would 
become  from  an  unselfish  man  an  egoist,  etc.  "Of  all 
things,  no  dogma!"  this  is  his — dogma.  For  the  critic 
remains  on  one  and  the  same  ground  with  the  dogmatist — 
that  of  thoughts.  Like  the  latter  he  always  starts  from 
a  thought,  but  varies  in  this,,  that  he  never  ceases  to 
keep  the  principle-thought  in  the  process  of  thinking, 
and  so  does  not  let  it  become  stable.  He  only  asserts 
the  thought-process  against  the  thought-faith,  the  prog- 
ress of  thinking  against  stationariness  in  it.    From  critic- 


*  [einsig] 


156 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


ism  no  thought  is  safe,  since  criticism  is  thought  or  th^ 
thinking  mind  itself. 

Therefore  I  repeat  that  the  reHgious  world — ^and  this 
is  the  world  of  thoughts — reaches  its  completion  in 
criticism,  where  thinking  extends  its  encroachments  over 
every  thought,  no  one  of  which  may  ''egoistically"  estab- 
lish itself.  Where  would  the  ''purity  of  criticism,"  the 
purity  of  thinking,  be  left  if  even  one  thought  escaped 
the  process  of  thinking?  This  explains  the  fact  that  the 
critic  has  even  begun  already  to  gibe  gently  here  and  there 
at  the  thought  of  Man,  of  humanity  and  humaneness, 
because  he  suspects  that  here  a  thought  is  approaching 
dogmatic  fixity.  But  yet  he  cannot  decompose  this  thought 
till  he  has  found  a — ''higher"  in  which  it  dissolves ;  for 
he  moves  only — in  thoughts.  This  higher  thought  might 
be  enunciated  as  that  of  the  movement  or  process  of 
thinking  itself,  i.  e.  as  the  thought  of  thinking  or  of 
criticism. 

Freedom  of  thinking  has  in  fact  become  complete 
hereby,  freedom  of  mind  celebrates  its  triumph :  for  the 
individual,  "egoistic"  thoughts  have  lost  their  dogmatic 
truculence.  There  is  nothing  left  but  the — dogma  of  free 
thinking  or  of  criticism. 

Against  everything  that  belongs  to  the  world  of  thought, 
criticism  is  in  the  right,  i.  e,  in  might:  it  is  the  victor. 
Criticism,  and  criticism  alone,  is  "up  to  date."  From 
the  standpoint  of  thought  there  is  no  power  capable  of 
being  an  overmatch  for  criticism's,  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to 
see  how  easily  and  sportively  this  dragon  swallows  all 
other  serpents  of  thought.  Each  serpent  twists,  to  be 
sure,  but  criticism  crushes  it  in  all  its  "turns." 

I  am  no  opponent  of  criticism,  i.  e.  I  am  no  dogmatist, 
and  do  not  feel  myself  touched  by  the  critic's  tooth  with 
which  he  tears  the  dogmatist  to  pieces.  If  I  were  a 
''dogmatist,"  I  should  place  at  the  head  a  dogma,  i.  e.  a 
thought,  an  idea,  a  principle,  and  should  complete  this 
as  a  "systematist,"  spinning  it  out  to  a  system,  i.  e.  a 
structure  of  thought.  Conversely,  if  I  were  a  critic,  vis., 
an  opponent  of  the  dogmatist,  I  should  carry  on  the 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  157 


fight  of  free  thinking  against  the  enthralling  thought,  I 
sliould  defend  thinking  against  what  was  thought.  But 
I  am  neither  the  champion  of  a  thought  nor  the  champion 
of  thinking;  for  *T,"  from  whom  I  sart,  am  not  a  thought, 
nor  do  I  consist  in  thinking.  Against  me,  the  unname- 
able,  the  realm  of  thoughts,  thinking,  and  mind  is  shat- 
tered. 

Criticism  is  the  possessed  man's  fight  against  posses- 
sion as  such,  against  all  possession :  a  fight  which  is  found- 
ed in  the  consciousness  that  everywhere  possession,  or, 
as  the  critic  calls  it,  a  religious  and  theological  attitude, 
is  extant.  He  knows  that  people  stand  in  a  religious  or 
believing  attitude  not  only  toward  God,  but  toward  other 
ideas  as  well,  like  right,  the  State,  law,  etc. ;  i.  e,  he 
recognizes  possession  in  all  places.  So  he  wants  to  break 
up  thoughts  by  thinking;  but  I  say,  only  thoughtlessness 
really  saves  me  from  thoughts.  It  is  not  thinking,  but 
my  thoughtlessness,  or  I  the  unthinkable,  incompre- 
hensible, that  frees  me  from  possession. 

A  jerk  does  me  the  service  of  the  most  anxious  think- 
ing, a  stretching  of  the  limbs  shakes  off  the  torment  of 
thoughts,  a  leap  upward  hurls  from  my  breast  the  night- 
mare of  the  religious  world,  a  jubilant  Hoopla  throws  off 
year-long  burdens.  But  the  monstrous  significance  of 
unthinking  jubilation  could  not  be  recognized  in  the  long 
night  of  thinking  and  believing. 

"What  clumsiness  and  frivolity,  to  want  to  solve  the 
most  difficult  problems,  acquit  yourself  of  the  most  com- 
prehensive tasks,  by  a  breaking  off!" 

But  have  you  tasks  if  you  do  not  set  them  to  your- 
self? So  long  as  you  set  them,  you  will  not  give  them 
up,  and  I  certainly  do  not  care  if  you  think,  and,  think- 
ing, create  a  thousand  thoughts.  But  you  who  have  set 
the  tasks,  are  you  not  to  be  able  to  upset  them  again? 
Must  you  be  bound  to  these  tasks,  and  must  they  be- 
come absolute  tasks? 

To  cite  only  one  thing,  the  government  has  been 
disparaged  on  account  of  its  restoring  to  forcible  means 
against  thoughts,  interfering  against  the  press  by  means 


158  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


of  the  police  power  of  the  censorship,  and  making  a 
personal  fight  out  of  a  literary  one.  As  if  it  were  solely 
a  matter  of  thoughts,  and  as  if  one's  attitude  toward 
thoughts  must  be  unselfish,  self-denying,  and  self-sacri- 
ficing !  Do  not  those  thoughts  attack  the  governing  par- 
ties themselves,  and  so  call  out  egoism?  And  do  the 
thinkers  not  set  before  the  attacked  ones  the  religious 
demand  to  reverence  the  power  of  thought,  of  ideas? 
They  are  to  succumb  voluntarily  and  resignedly,  because 
the  divine  power  of  thought,  Minerva,  fights  on  their 
enemies'  side.  Why,  that  would  be  an  act  of  posses- 
sion, a  religious  sacrifice.  To  be  sure,  the  governing 
parties  are  themselves  held  fast  in  a  religious  bias,  and 
follow  the  leading  power  of  an  idea  or  a  faith ;  but  they 
are  at  the  same  time  unconfessed  egoists,  and  right  here, 
against  the  enemy,  their  pent-up  egoism  breaks  loose : 
possessed  in  their  faith,  they  are  at  the  same  time  un- 
possessed /by  their  opponents'  faith,  i.  e.  they  are  ego- 
ists toward  this.  If  one  wants  to  make  them  a  reproach, 
it  could  only  be  the  converse — to  wit,  that  they  are  pos- 
sessed by  their  ideas. 

Against  thoughts  no  egoistic  power  is  to  appear,  no 
police  power  and  the  like.  So  the  believers  in  thinking 
believe.  But  thinking  and  its  thoughts  are  not  sacred  to 
me,  and  I  defend  my  skin  against  them  as  against  other 
things.  That  may  be  an  unreasonable  defence;  but,  if  I 
am  in  duty  bound  to  reason,  then  I,  like  Abraham,  must 
sacrifice  my  dearest  to  it! 

In  the  kinglom  of  thought,  which,  like  that  of  faith, 
IS  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  every  one  is  assuredly  wrong 
who  uses  unthinking  force,  just  as  every  one  is  wrong 
who  in  the  kingdom  of  love  behaves  unlovingly,  or, 
although  he  is  a  Christian  and  therefore  lives  in  the 
kingdom  of  love,  yet  acts  unchristianly  in  these  king- 
doms, to  which  he  supposes  himself  to  (belong  though 
he  nevertheless  throws  off  their  laws,  he  is  a  ''sinner" 
or  "egoist."  But  it  is  only  when  he  becomes  a  criminal 
against  these  kingdoms  that  he  can  throw  off  their 
dominion. 


MEN  OF  THE  OLD  TIME  AND  THE  NEW  159 


Here  too  the  result  is  this,  that  the  fight  of  the  think- 
ers against  the  government  is  indeed  in  the  right,  viz,, 
in  might — so  far  as  it  is  carried  on  against  the  govern- 
ment's thoughts  (the  government  is  dumb,  and  does 
not  succeed  in  making  any  literary  rejoinder  to  speak 
of),  but  is,  on  the  other  hand,  in  the  wrong,  viz.,  in  im- 
potence, so  far  as  it  does  not  succeed  in  bringing  into 
the  field  anything  but  thoughts  against  a  personal  power 
(the  egoistic  power  stops  the  mouths  of  the  thinkers). 
The  theoretical  fight  cannot  complete  the  victory,  and 
the  sacred  power  of  thought  succumbs  to  the  might  of 
egoism.  Only  the  egoistic  fight,  the  fight  of  egoists  on 
both   sides,  clear  up  everything. 

This  last  now,  to  make  thinking  an  aflfair  of  egoistic 
option,  an  affair  of  the  single  person,"^  a  mere  pas- 
time or  hobby  as  it  were,  and  to  take  from  it  the  im- 
portance of  ''being  the  last  decisive  power" ;  this  degra- 
dation and  desecration  of  thinking;  this  equalization 
of  the  unthinking  and  thoughtful  ego ;  this  clumsy  but 
real  ''equality" — criticism  is  not  able  to  produce,  be- 
cause it  itself  is  only  the  priest  of  thinking,  and  sees 
nothing  beyond  thinking  but — the  deluge. 

Criticism  does  indeed  afiirm^  e,  g.,  that  free  criticism 
may  overcome  the  State,  but  at  the  same  time  it  de- 
fends itself  against  the  reproach  which  is  laid  upon  it 
by  the  State  government,  hat  it  is  "self-will  and  im- 
pudence" ;  it  thinks,  then,  that  "self-will  and  impu- 
dence' may  not  overcome,  it  alone  may.  The  truth  is 
rather  the  reverse :  the  State  can  be  really  overcome  only 
by  impudent  self-will. 

It  may  now,  to  conclude  with  this,  be  clear  that  in 
the  critic's  new  change  of  front  he  has  not  transformed 
himself,  but  only  "made  good  an  oversight,"  "disen- 
tangled a  subject,"  and  is  saying  too  much  when  he 
speaks  of  "criticism  criticising  itself" ;  it,  or  rather  he, 
has  only  criticised  its  "oversight"  and  cleared  it  of  its 
"inconsistencies."    If  he  wanted  to  criticise  criticism, 


*  [des  Einzigen] 


160  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


he  would  have  to  look  and  see  if  there  was  anything  in  its 
presupposition. 

I  on  my  part  start  from  a  presupposition  in  presup- 
posing myself;  but  my  presupposition  does  not  struggle 
for  its  perfection  like  ''Man  struggling  for  his  perfec- 
tion/' but  only  serves  me  to  enjoy  it  and  consume  it. 
I  consume  my  presupposition,  and  nothing  else,  and  ex- 
ist only  in  consuming  it.  But  that  presupposition  is 
therefore  not  a  presupposition  at  all :  for,  as  I  am  the 
Unique^  I  know  nothing  of  the  duality  of  a  presuppos- 
ing and  a  presupposed  ego  (an  ''incomplete''  and  a 
"complete"  ego  or  man)  ;  but  this  that  I  consume  my- 
self, means  only  that  I  am.  I  do  not  presuppose  myself, 
because  I  am  every  moment  just  positing  or  creating 
myself,  and  am  I  only  by  being  not  presupposed  but 
posited,  and,  again,  posited  only  in  the  moment  when  I 
posit  myself ;  i.  e.,  I  am  creator  and  creature  in  one. 

If  the  presuppositions  that  have  hitherto  been  cur- 
rent are  to  melt  away  in  a  full  dissolution,  they  must 
not  be  dissolved  into  a  higher  presupposition  again — 
i.  e.  a  thought,  or  thinking  itself,  criticism.  For  that 
dissolution  is  to  be  for  my  good ;  otherwise  itt  would 
belong  only  in  the  series  of  the  innumerable  dissolu- 
tions which,  in  favor  of  others,  (e.  g.  this  very  Man, 
God,  the  State,  pure  morality,  etc.),  declared  old  truths 
to  be  untruths  and  did  away  with  long-fosered  pre- 
suppositions. 


FART  SECOND 

I 


At  the  entrance  of  the  modern  time  stands  the  "God-man." 
At  its  exit  will  only  the  God  in  the  God-man  evaporate?  and  can 
the  God-man  really  die  if  only  the  God  in  him  dies?  They  did 
not  think  of  this  question,  'and  thought  they  were  through  when 
in  our  days  they  brought  to  a  victorious  end  the  work  of  the 
Illumination,  the  vanquishing  of  God ;  they  did  not  notice  that 
Man  has  killed  God  in  order  to  become  now — "sole  God  on  high." 
The  other  world  outside  us  is  indeed  brushed  away,  and  the 
great  undertaking  of  the  Illuminators  completed;  but  the  other 
world  in  us  has  become  a  new  heaven  and  calls  us  forth  to 
renewed  heaven-storming:  God  has  had  to  give  place,  yet  not  to 
us,  but  to — Man.  How  can  you  believe  that  the  God-man  is  dead 
before  the  Man  in  him,  besides  the  God,  is  dead? 


I 


OWNNESS* 

*'Does  not  the  spirit  thirst  for  freedom?" — Alas,  not 
my  spirit  alone,  my  body  too  thirsts  for  it  hourly !  When 
before  the  odorous  castle-kitchen  my  nose  tells  my 
palate  of  the  savory  dishes  that  are  being  prepared 
therein,  it  feels  a  fearful  pining  at  its  dry  bread;  when 
my  eyes  tell  the  hardened  back  about  soft  down  on 
which  one  may  lie  more  delightfully  than  on  its  com- 
pressed straw,  a  suppressed  rage  seizes  it ;  when — ^but 
let  us  not  follow  the  pains  further. — And  you  call  that 
a  longing  for  freedom?  What  do  you  want  to  become 
free  from,  then?  From  your  hardtack  and  your  straw 
bed  ?  Then  throw  them  away ! — But  that  seems  not  to 
serve  you:  you  want  rather  to  have  the  freedom  to  enjoy 
delicious  foods  and  downy  beds.  Are  men  to  give  you 
this  "freedom" — are  they  to  permit  it  to  you?  You 
do  not  hope  that  from  their  philanthropy,  because  you 
know  they  all  think  like — you :  each  is  the  nearest  to 
himself!     How,  therefore,  do  you  mean  to  come  to 


*  [This  is  a  literal  translation  of  the  German  word  Eigenheit^ 
which,  with  its  primitive  eigen,  "own,"  is  used  in  this  chapter  in 
a  way  that  the  German  dictionaries  do  not  quite  recognize.  The 
author's  conception  being  new,  he  had  to  make  an  innovation  in 
the  German  language  to  express  it.  The  translator  is  under  the 
like  necessity.  In  most  passages  ''self-ownership,"  or  else  ''per- 
sonality," would  translate  the  word,  but  there  are  some  where 
the  thought  is  so  eigen,  that  is,  so  peculiar  or  so  thoroughly  the 
author's  own,  that  no  English  word  I  can  think  of  would  express 
it.  It  will  explain  itself  to  one  who  has  read  Part  First  intelli- 
gently.] 

163 


164 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


the  enjoyment  of  those  foods  and  beds?  Evidently 
not  otherwise  than  in  making  them  your  property! 

If  you  think  it  over  rightly,  you  do  not  want  the 
freedom  to  have  all  these  fine  things,  for  with  this 
freedom  you  still  do  not  have  them ;  you  want  really 
to  have  them^  to  call  them  yours  and  possess  them  as 
your  property.  Of  what  use  is  a  freedom  to  you,  in- 
deed, if  it  brings  in  nothing?  And,  if  you  became  free 
from  everything,  you  would  no  longer  have  anything; 
for  freedom  is  empty  of  substance.  Whoso  knows  not 
how  to  make  use  of  it,  for  bim  it  has  no  value,  this  use- 
less permission ;  but  how  I  make  use  of  it  depends  on 
my  personality.''' 

I  have  no  objection  to  freedom,  but  I  wish  more  than 
freedom  for  you :  you  should  not  merely  be  rid  of  what 
you  do  not  want,  you  should  also  have  what  you  want: 
you  should  not  only  be  a  ''freeman,''  you  should  be  an 
"owner''  top. 

Free — from  what?  Oh!  what  is  there  that  cannot  be 
shaken  off?  The  yoke  of  serfdom,  of  sovereignty,  of 
aristocracy  and  princes,  the  dominion  of  the  desires  and 
passions:  yes,  even  the  dominion  of  ones  own  will,  of 
self-will,  for  the  completest  self-denial  is  nothing  but 
freedom — freedom,  to  wit,  from  self-determination, 
from  one's  own  self.  And  the  craving  for  freedom  as 
for  something  absolute,  worthy  of  every  praise,  de- 
prived us  of  ownness:  it  created  self-denial.  However, 
the  freer  I  become,  the  more  compulsion  piles  up  before 
my  eyes ;  and  the  more  impotent  I  feel  myself.  The 
unfree  son  of  the  wilderness  does  not  yet  feel  anything 
of  all  the  limits  that  crowd  a  civilized  man:  he  seems 
to  himself  freer  than  this  latter.  In  the  measure  that 
I  conquer  freedom  for  myself  I  create  for  myself  new 
bounds  and  new  tasks:  if  I  have  invented  railroads, 
I  feel  myself  weak  again  because  I  cannot  yet  sail 
through  the  skies  like  the  bird;  and,  if  I  have  solved  a 
problem  whose  obscurity  disturbed  my  mind,  at  once 


*  [Eigenheit'] 


OWNNESS 


165 


there  await  me  innumerable  others,  whose  perplexities 
impede  my  progress,  dim  my  free  gaze,  make  the  lim- 
its of  my  freedom  painfully  sensible  to  me.  ''Now  that 
you  have  become  free  from  sin,  you  have  become  serv- 
ants of  righteousness/'"^  Republicans  in  their  broad 
freedom,  do  they  not  become  servants  of  the  law  ?  How 
true  Christian  hearts  at  all  times  longed  to  "become  free/' 
how  they  pined  to  see  themselves  delivered  from  the 
"bonds  of  this  earth-Hfe" !  they  looked  out  toward  the 
land  of  freedom.  ("The  Jerusalem  that  is  above  is  the 
freewoman;  she  is  the  mother  of  us  all."   Gal.  4.  26). 

Being  free  from  anything — means  only  being  clear 
or  rid.  "He  is  free  from  headache"  is  equal  to  "he  is 
rid  of  it."  "He  is  free  from  this  prejudice"  is  equal 
to  "he  has  never  conceived  it"  or  "he  has  got  rid  of  it." 
In  "less"  we  complete  the  freedom  recommended  by 
Christianity,  in  sinless,  godless,  moralityless,  etc. 

Freedom  is  the  doctrine  of  Christianity.  "Ye,  dear 
brethren,  are  called  to  freedom. "f  "So  speak  and  so 
do,  as  those  who  are  to  be  judged  by  the  law  of  free- 
dom."t 

Must  we  then,  because  freedom  betrays  itself  as  a 
Christian  ideal,  give  it  up?  No,  nothing  is  to  be  lost, 
freedom  no  more  than  the  rest;  but  it  is  to  become  our 
own,  and  in  the  form  of  freedom  it  cannot. 

What  a  difference  between  freedom  and  ownness! 
One  can  get  rid  of  a  great  many  things,  one  yet  does 
not  get  rid  of  all ;  one  becomes  free  from  much,  not 
from  everything.  Inwardly  one  may  be  free  in  spite 
of  the  condition  of  slavery,  although,  too,  it  is  again 
only  from  all  sorts  of  things,  not  from  everything;  but 
from  the  whip,  the  domineering  temper,  etc.,  of  the 
master,  one  does  not  as  slave  become  free.  "Freedom 
lives  only  in  the  realm  of  dreams !"  Ownness,  on  the 
contrary,  is  my  whole  being  and  existence,  it  is  I  myself. 
I  am  free  from  what  I  am  rid  of,  owner  of  what  I  have 
in  my  power  or  what  I  control.    My  ozvn  I  am  at  all 


*  Rom.  6,  18.  1 1  Pet.  2,  16.  t  James  2,  12. 


166 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


times  and  under  all  circumstances,  if  I  know  how  to 
have  myself  and  do  not  throw  myself  away  on  others. 
To  be  free  is  something  that  I  cannot  truly  zvill,  because 
I  cannot  make  it,  cannot  create  it :  I  can  only  wish  it  and 
— aspire  toward  it,  for  it  remains  an  ideal,  a  spook. 
The  fetters  of  reality  cut  the  sharpest  welts  in  my  flesh 
every  moment.  But  my  own  I  remain.  Given  up  as 
serf  to  a  master^  I  think  only  of  myself  and  my  advan- 
tage; his  blows  strike  me  indeed,  I  am  not  free  from 
them ;  but  I  endure  them  only  for  my  benefit ,  perhaps  in 
order  to  deceive  him  and  make  him  secure  by  the  sem- 
blance of  patience,  or,  again,  not  to  draw  worse  upon 
myself  by  contumacy.  But,  as  I  keep  my  eye  on  myself 
and  my  selfishness,  I  take  by  the  forelock  the  first  good 
opportunity  to  trample  the  slaveholder  into  the  dust. 
That  I  then  become  free  from  him  and  his  whip  is  only 
the  consequence  of  my  antecedent  egoism.  Here  one 
perhaps  says  I  was  ''free"  even  in  the  condition  of 
slavery — to  wit,  ''intrinsically"  or  "inwardly."  But 
"intrinsically  free"  is  not  "really  free,"  and  "inwardly" 
is  not  "outwardly."  I  was  own,  on  the  other  hand,  my 
own,  altogether,  inwardly  and  outwardly.  Under  the 
dominion  of  a  cruel  master  my  body  is  not  "free"  from 
torments  and  lashes ;  but  it  is  my  bones  that  moan  un- 
der the  torture,  my  fibres  that  quiver  under  the  blows, 
and  /  moan  because  my  body  moans.  That  /  sigh  and 
shiver  proves  that  I  have  not  yet  lost  myself,  that  I  am 
still  my  own.  My  leg  is  not  "free"  from  the  master's 
stick,  r  iut  it  is  my  leg  and  is  inseparable.  Let  him  tear 
it  off  me  and  look  and  see  if  he  still  has  my  leg!  He 
retains  in  his  hand  nothing  but  the — corpse  of  my  leg, 
which  is  as  little  my  leg  as  a  dead  dog  is  still  a  dog:  a 
dog  has  a  pulsating  heart,  a  so-called  dead  dog  has  none 
and  is  therefore  no  longer  a  dog. 

If  one  opines  that  a  slave  may  yet  be  inwardly  free, 
he  says  in  fact  only  the  most  indisputable  and  trivial  thing. 
For  who  is  going  to  assert  that  any  man  is  wholly  with- 
out freedom?  If  I  am  an  eye-servant,  can  I  therefore 
not  be  free  from  innumerable  things,  e.  g.  from  faith  in 


OWNNESS 


167 


Zeus,  from  the  desire  for  fame,  and  the  Hke?  Why 
then  should  not  a  whipped  slave  also  be  able  to  be  in- 
wardly free  from  unchristian  sentiments,  from  hatred 
of  his  enemy,  etc.?  He  then  has  ''Christian  freedom,"  is 
rid  of  the  unchristian;  but  has  he  absolute  freedom,  free- 
dom from  everything,  e.  g,  from  the  Christian  delusion, 
or  from  bodily  pain,  etc.? 

In  the  meantime,  all  this  seems  to  be  said  more  against 
names  than  against  the  thing.  But  is  the  name  indif- 
ferent, and  has  not  a  word,  a  shibboleth,  always  inspired 
and — fooled  men?  Yet  between  freedom  and  ownness 
there  lies  still  a  deeper  chasm  than  the  mere  difference 
of  the  words. 

All  the  world  desires  freedom,  all  long  for  its  reign 
to  come.  O  enchantingly  beautiful  dream  of  a  blooming 
''reign  of.  freedom,"  a  "free  human  race" ! — who  has  not 
dreamed  it?  So  men  shall  become  free,  entirely  free, 
free  from  all  constraint !  From  all  constraint,  really  from 
all  ?  Are  they  never  to  put  constraint  on  themselves  any 
more?  "Oh  yes,  that,  of  course;  don't  you  see,  that  is 
no  constraint  at  all?"  Well,  then  at  any  rate  they  are 
to  become  free  from  religious  faith,  from  the  strict  duties 
of  morality,  from  the  inexorability  of  the  law,  from — 
"What  a  fearful  misunderstanding!"  Well,  what  are 
they  to  be  free  from  then,  and  what  not? 

The  lovely  dream  is  dissipated;  awakened,  one  rubs 
his  half-opened  eyes  and  stares  at  the  prosaic  questioner. 
"What  men  are  to  be  free  from?" — From  blind  credulity, 
cries  one.  What's  that?  exclaims  another,  all  faith  is 
blind  credulity;  they  must  become  free  from  all  faith. 
No,  no,  for  God's  sake — inveighs  the  first  again — do 
not  cast  all  faith  from  you,  else  the  power  of  brutality 
breaks  in.  We  must  have  the  republic — a  third  makes 
himself  heard — and  become — free  from  all  commanding 
lords.  There  is  no  help  in  that,  says  a  fourth :  we  only 
get  a  new  lord  then,  a  "dominant  majority";  let  us 
rather  free  ourselves  from  this  dreadful  inequality. — O 
hapless  equality,  already  I  hear  your  plebeian  roar  again ! 
How  I  had  dreamed  so  beautifully  just  now  of  a  para- 


168 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


dise  of  freedom,  and  what — impudence  and  licentiousness 
now  raises  its  wild  clamor !  Thus  the  first  laments,  and 
gets  on  his  feet  to  grasp  the  sword  against  ''unmeasured 
freedom/'  Soon  we  no  longer  hear  anything  but  the 
clashing  of  the  swords  of  the  disagreeing  dreamers  of 
freedom. 

What  the  craving  for  freedom  has  always  come  to  has 
been  the  desire  for  a  particular  freedom,  e,  g,  freedom  of 
faith;  i.  e.,  the  believing  man  wanted  to  be  free  and 
independent;  of  what?  of  faith  perhaps?  no!  but  of  the 
inquisitors  of  faith.  So  now  "political  or  civil"  freedom. 
The  citizen  wants  to  become  free  not  from  citizenhood, 
but  from  bureaucracy,  the  arbitrariness  of  princes,  and 
the  like.  Prince  Metternich  once  said  he  had  ''found  a 
way  that  was  adapted  to  guide  men  in  the  path  of  genuine 
freedom  for  all  the  future.''  The  Count  of  Provence  ran 
away  from  France  precisely  at  the  time  when  she  was  pre- 
paring the  "reign  of  freedom,"  and  said :  "My  imprison- 
ment had  become  intolerable  to  me ;  I  had  only  one  pas- 
sion, the  desire  for — freedom;  I  thought  only  of  it." 

The  craving  for  a  particular  freedom  always  includes 
the  purpose  of  a  new  dominion,  as  it  was  with  the  Revolu- 
tion, which  indeed  "could  give  its  defenders  the  uplifting 
feeling  that  they  were  fighting  for  freedom,"  but  in  truth 
only  because  they  were  after  a  particular  freedom,  there- 
fore a  new  dominion,  the  "dominion  of  the  law." 

Freedom  you  all  want,  you  want  freedom.  Why  then 
do  you  higgle  over  a  more  or  less  ?  Freedom  can  only  be 
the  whole  of  freedom;  a  piece  of  freedom  is  not  freedom. 
You  despair  of  the  possibility  of  obtaining  the  whole  of 
freedom,  freedom  from  everything — yes,  you  consider  it 
insanity  even  to  wish  this? — ^Well,  then  leave  off  chasing 
after  the  phantom,  and  spend  your  pains  on  something 
better  than  the — unattainable . 

"Ah,  but  there  is  nothing  better  than  freedom !" 

What  have  you  then  when  you  have  freedom,  vis. — 
for  I  will  not  speak  here  of  your  piecemeal  bits  of  free- 
dom— complete  freedom?  Then  you  are  rid  of  everv- 
thine  that  embarrasses  you,  everything,  and  there  is  prob- 


OWNNESS 


169 


ably  nothing  that  does  not  once  in  your  life  embarrass  you 
and  cause  you  inconvenience.  And  for  whose  sake  then, 
did  you  want  to  be  rid  of  it?  Doubtless  for  your  sake, 
because  it  is  in  your  way!  But,  if  something  were  not 
inconvenient  to  you ;  if,  on  the  contrary,  it  were  quite  to 
your  mind  {e.  g.  the  gently  but  irresistibly  commmiding 
look  of  your  loved  one) — then  you  would  not  want  to  be 
rid  of  it  and  free  from  it.  Why  not?  For  your  sake 
again !  So  you  take  yourselves  as  measure  and  judge  over 
all.  ''You  gladly  let  freedom  go  when  unfreedom,  the 
sweet  service  of  love,''  suits  you;  and  you  take  up  your 
freedom  again  on  occasion  when  it  begins  to  suit  you 
better — that  is,  supposing,  which  is  not  the  point  here, 
that  you  are  not  afraid  of  such  a  Repeal  of  the  Union 
for  other  .(perhaps  religious)  reasons. 

Why  will  you  not  take  courage  now  to  really  make 
yourselves  the  central  point  and  the  main  thing  altogether  ? 
Why  grasp  in  the  air  at  freedom,  your  dream?  Are 
you  your  dream?  Do  not  begin  by  inquiring  of  your 
dreams,  your  notions,  your  thoughts,  for  that  is  all  "hol- 
low theory/'  Ask  yourselves  and  ask  after  yourselves — 
that  is  practical,  and  you  know  you  want  very  much  to  be 
"practical."  But  there  the  one  barkens  what  his  God  (of 
course  what  he  thinks  of  at  the  name  God  is  his  God) 
may  be  going  to  say  to  it,  and  another  what  his  moral 
feelings,  his  conscience,  his  feeling  of  duty,  may  deter- 
mine about  it,  and  a  third  calculates  what  folks  will  think 
of  it — and,  when  each  has  thus  asked  his  Lord  God  (folks 
are  a  Lord  God  just  as  good  as,  nay,  even  more  compact 
than,  the  other-wordly  and  imaginary  one :  vox  populi, 
vox  dei)  then  he  accommodates  himself  to  his  Lord's 
will  and  listens  no  more  at  all  for  what  he  himself  would 
like  to  say  and  decide. 

Therefore  turn  to  yourself  rather  than  to  your  gods 
or  idols.  Bring  out  from  yourselves  what  is  in  you,  bring 
it  to  the  light,  bring  yourselves  to  revelation. 

How  one  acts  only  from  himself,  and  asks  after  noth- 
ing further,  the  Christians  have  realized  in  the  notion 
**God."   He  acts  "as  it  pleases  him."   And  foolish  man, 


170  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


who  could  do  just  so,  is  to  act  as  it  "pleases  God"  instead. 
— If  it  is  said  that  even  God  proceeds  according  to  eter- 
nal laws,  that  too  fits  me,  since  I  too  cannot  get  out  of  my 
skin,  but  have  my  law  in  my  whole  nature,  i.  e.  in  myself. 

But  one  needs  only  admonish  you  of  yourselves  to  bring 
you  to  despair  at  once.  ''What  am  I?''  each  of  you  asks 
himself.  An  abyss  of  lawless  and  unregulated  impulses, 
desires,  wishes,  passions,  a  chaos  without  light  or  guiding 
star !  How  am  I  to  obtain  a  correct  answer,  if,  without  re- 
gard to  God's  commandments  or  to  the  duties  which 
morality  prescribes,  without  regard  to  the  voice  of  reason, 
which  in  the  course  of  history,  after  bitter  experiences, 
has  exalted  the  best  and  most  reasonable  thing  into  law, 
I  simply  appeal  to  myself  ?  My  passion  would  advise  me 
to  do  the  most  senseless  thing  possible. — Thus  each  deems 
himself  the — devil-'  for,  if,  so  far  as  he  is  unconcerned 
about  religion,  etc,  he  only  deemed  himself  a  beast,  he 
would  easily  find  that  the  beast,  which  does  follow  only 
its  impulse  (as  it  were,  its  advice),  does  not  advise  and 
impel  itself  to  do  the  ''most  senseless"  things,  but  takes 
very  correct  steps.  But  the  habit  of  the  religious  way  of 
thinking  has  biased  our  mind  so  grievously  that  we  are — 
terrified  at  ourselves  in  our  nakedness  and  naturalness ;  it 
has  degraded  us  so  that  we  deem  ourselves  depraved  by 
nature,  born  devils.  Of  course  it  comes  into  your  head  at 
once  that  your  calling  requires  you  to  do  the  "good,"  the 
moral,  the  right.  Now,  if  you  ask  yourselves  what  is  to  be 
done,  how  can  the  right  voice  sound  forth  from  you,  the 
voice  which  points  the  way  of  the  good,  the  right,  the 
true,  etc.  ?  What  concord  have  God  and  Belial  ? 

But  what  would  you  think  if  one  answered  you  by  say- 
ing: "That  one  is  to  listen  to  God,  conscience,  duties, 
laws,  etc.,  is  flim-^flam  with  which  people  have  stuffed 
your  head  and  heart  and  made  you  crazy"?  And  if  he 
asked  you  how  it  is  you  know  so  surely  that  the  voice  of 
nature  is  a  seducer?  And  if  he  even  demanded  of  you 
to  turn  the  thing  about  and  actuallv  to  deem  the  voice 
of  God  and  conscience  to  be  the  deviFs  work?  There  are 
such  s^raceless  men;  how  will  you  settle  them?   You  can- 


OW'NNESS 


171 


not  appeal  to  your  parsons,  parents,  and  good  men,  for 
precisely  these  are  designated  by  them  as  your  seducers,  as 
the  true  seducers  and  corrupters  of  youth,  who  busily  sow 
broadcast  the  tares  of  self-contempt  and  reverence  to 
God,  who  fill  young  hearts  with  mud  and  young  heads 
with  stupidity. 

But  now  those  people  go  on  and  ask:  For  whose  sake 
do  you  care  about  God's  and  the  other  commandments? 
You  surely  do  not  suppose  that  this  is  done  merely  out  of 
complaisance  toward  God?  No,  you  are  doing  it — for 
your  sake  again. — Here  too,  therefore,  you  are  the  main 
thing,  and  each  must  say  to  himself,  /  am  everything  to 
myself  and  I  do  everything  on  my  account.  If  it  ever 
became  clear  to  you  that  God,  the  commandments,  etc., 
only  harm  you,  that  they  reduce  and  ruin  you,  to  a  cer- 
tainty you  would  throw  them  from  you  just  as  the  Chris- 
tians once  condemned  Apollo  or  Minerva  or  heathen 
morality.  They  did  indeed  put  in  the  place  of  these  Christ 
and  afterward  Mary,  as  well  as  a  Christian  morality ;  but 
they  did  this  for  the  sake  of  their  souls'  welfare  too,  there- 
fore out  of  egoism  or  ownness. 

And  it  was  by  this  egoism,  this  ownness,  that  they  got 
rid  of  the  old  world  of  gods  and  became  free  from  it. 
Ownness  created  a  new  freedom;  for  ownness  is  the  crea- 
tor of  everything,  as  genius  (a  definite  ownness),  which 
is  always  originality,  has  for  a  long  time  already  been 
looked  upon  as  the  creator  of  new  productions  that  have 
a  place  in  the  history  of  the  world. 

If  your  efforts  are  ever  to  make  "freedom"  the  issue, 
then  exhaust  freedom's  demands.  Who  is  it  that  is  to 
become  free?  You,  I,  we.  Free  from  what?  From 
ever3rthing  that  is  not  you,  not  I,  not  we.  I,  therefore, 
am  the  kernel  that  is  to  be  delivered  from  all  wrappings 
and — freed  from  all  cramping  shells.  What  is  left  when 
I  have  been  freed  from  everything  that  it  not  I  ?  Only  I ; 
nothing  but  I.  But  freedom  has  nothing  to  offer  to  this 
I  himself.  As  to  what  is  now  to  happen  further  after  I 
have  become  free,  freedom  is  silent — as  our  governments, 


172 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


when  the  prisoner's  time  is  up,  merely  let  him  go,  thrust- 
ing him  out  into  abandonment. 

Now  why,  if  freedom  is  striven  after  for  love  of  the 
I  after  all — why  not  choose  the  I  himself  as  beginning, 
middle,  and  end?  Am  I  not  worth  more  than  freedom? 
Is  it  not  I  that  make  myself  free,  am  not  I  the  first? 
Even  unfree,  even  laid  in  a  thousand  fetters,  I  yet  am; 
and  I  am  not,  like  freedom,  exant  only  in  the  future  and 
in  hopes,  but  even  as  the  most  abject  of  slaves  I  am — 
present. 

Think  that  over  well,  and  decide  whether  you  will  place 
on  your  banner  the  dream  of  "freedom"  or  the  resolution 
of  *'egoism,"  of  ''ownness.''  ''Freedom''  awakens  your 
rage  against  everything  that  is  not  you;  ''egoism"  calls 
you  to  joy  over  yourselves,  to  self-enjoyment ;  "freedom" 
is  and  remains  a  longing,  a  romantic  plaint,  a  Christian 
hope  for  unearthliness  and  futurity;  "ownness"  is  a 
Ideality,  which  of  itself  removes  just  so  much  unfreedom 
as  by  barring  your  own  way  hinders  you.  What  does  not 
disturb  you,  you  will  not  want  to  renounce;  and,  if  it 
begins  to  disturb  you,  why,  you  know  that  "you  must  obey 
yourselves  rather  than  men!" 

Freedom  teaches  only:  Get  yourself  rid,  relieve  your- 
selves, of  everything  burdensome;  it  does  not  teach  you 
who  you  yourself  are.  Rid,  rid !  so  rings  its  rallying-cry, 
and  you,  eagerly  following  its  call,  get  rid  even  of  your- 
selves, "deny  yourselves."  But  ownness  calls  you  back  to 
yourselves,  it  says  "Come  to  yourself!"  Under  the  aegis 
of  freedom  you  get  rid  of  many  kinds  of  things,  but 
something  new  pinches  you  again:  "you  are  rid  of  the 
Evil  One;  evil  is  left.""^  As  own  you  are  really  rid  of 
everything,  and  what  clings  to  you  you  have  accepted;' 
it  is  your  choice  and  your  pleasure.  The  own  man  is 
the  free-born,  the  man  free  to  begin  with;  the  free  man, 
on  the  contrary,  is  only  the  eleutheromaniac,  the  dreamer 
and  enthusiast. 

The  former  is  originally  free,  because  he  recognizes 


*  [See  note,  p.  112.] 


173 


nothing  but  himself ;  he  does  not  need  to  free  himself 
first,  because  at  the  start  he  rejects  everything  outside 
himself,  because  he  prizes  nothing  more  than  himself, 
rates  nothing  higher,  because,  in  short,  he  starts  from 
himself  and  ''comes  to  himself."  Constrained  by  child- 
ish respect,  he  is  nevertheless  already  working  at  "free- 
ing" himself  from  this  constraint.  Ownness  works  in 
the  little  egoist,  and  procures  him  the  desired — freedom. 

Thousands  of  years  of  civilization  have  obscured  to 
you  what  you  are,  have  made  you  believe  you  are  not 
egoist,  but  are  called  to  be  idealists  (''good  men").  Shake 
that  oi¥!,  Do  not  seek  for  freedom,  which  does  precisely 
deprive  you  of  yourselves,  in  ''self-denial" ;  but  seek  for 
yourselves,  become  egoists,  become  each  of  you  an 
almighty  ego.  Or,  more  clearly:  Just  recognize  your- 
selves again,  just  recognize  what  you  really  are,  and  let 
go  your  hypocritical  endeavors,  your  foolish  mania  to  be 
something  else  than  you  are.  Hypocritical  I  call  them 
because  you  have  yet  remained  egoists  all  these  thousands 
of  years,  but  sleeping,  self-deceiving,  crazy  egoists,  you 
Heautontimorumenoses,  you  self-tormentors.  Never  yet 
has  a  religion  been  able  to  dispense  with  "promises," 
whether  they  referred  us  to  the  other  world  or  to  this 
("long  life,"  etc.)  ;  for  man  is  mercenary  and  does  noth- 
ing "gratis."  But  how  about  that  "doing  the  good  for 
the  good's  sake"  without  prospect  of  reward?  As  if 
here  too  the  pay  was  not  contained  in  the  satisfaction 
that  it  is  to  afford.  Even  religion,  therefore,  is  founded 
on  our  egoism  and — exploits  it ;  calculated  for  our  desires, 
it  stifles  many  others  for  the  sake  of  one.  This  then 
gives  the  phenomenon  of  cheated  egoism,  where  I  satisfy, 
not  myself,  but  one  of  my  desires,  e,  g.  the  impulse  toward 
blessedness.  Religion  promises  me  the — "supreme  good" ; 
to  gain  this  I  no  longer  regard  any  other  of  my  desires, 
and  do  not  slake  them. — All  your  doings  are  unconfessed, 
secret,  covert,  and  concealed  egoism.  But  because  they 
are  egoism  that  you  are  unwilling  to  confess  to  yourselves, 
that  you  keep  secret  from  yourselves,  hence  not  manifest 
and  public  egoism,  consequently  unconscious  egoism — 


174  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


therefore  they  are  not  egoism,  but  thraldom,  service,  self- 
renunciation  ;  you  are  egoists,  and  you  are  not,  since  you 
renounce  egoism.  Where  you  seem  most  to  be  such,  you 
have  drawn  upon  the  word  "egoist'' — loathing  and  con- 
tempt. 

I  secure  my  freedom  with  regard  to  the  world  in  the 
degree  that  I  make  the  world  my  own,  i.  e.  ''gain  it  and 
take  possession  of  it"  for  myself,  by  whatever  might,  by 
that  of  persuasion,  of  petition,  of  categorical  demand, 
yes,  even  by  hypocrisy,  cheating,  etc. ;  for  the  means  that 
I  use  for  it  are  determined  by  what  I  am.   If  I  am  weak, 
I  have  only  weak  means,  like  the  aforesaid,  which  yet  are 
good  enough   for  a  considerable  part  of  the  world. 
Besides,  cheating,  hypocrisy,  lying,  look  worse  than  they 
are.   Who  has  not  cheated  the  police,  the  law?  who  has 
not  quickly  taken  on  an  air  of  honorable  loyalty  before 
the  sheriff's  officer  who  meets  him,  in  order  to  conceal  an 
illegality  that  may  have  been  committed,  etc.?    He  who 
has  not  done  it  has  simply  let  violence  be  done  to  him ;  he 
was  a  weakling  from — conscience.    I  know  that  my  free- 
dom is  diminished  even  by  my  not  being  able  to  carry 
out  my  will  on  another  object,  be  this  other  something 
without  will,  like  a  rock,  or  something  with  will,  like  a 
government,  an  individual,  etc. ;  I  deny  my  ownness  when 
— in  presence  of  another — I  give  myself  up,  i.  e,  give  way, 
desist,  submit;  therefore  by  loyalty^  submission.  For 
it  is  one  thing  when  I  give  up  my  previous  course  because 
it  does  not  lead  to  the  goal,  and  therefore  turn  out  of  a 
wrong  road ;  it  is  another  when  I  yield  my  self  a  prisoner. 
I  get  around  a  rock  that  stands  in  my  way,  till  I  have 
powder  enough  to  blast  it;  I  get  around  the  laws  of  a 
people,  till  I  have  gathered  strength  to  overthrow  them. 
Because  I  cannot  grasp  the  moon,  is  it  therefore  to  be 
"sacred"  to  me,  an  Astarte?   If  I  only  could  grasp  you, 
I  surely  would,  and  if  I  only  find  a  means  to  get  up  to 
you,  you  shall  not  frighten  me!    You  inapprehensible 
one,  you  shall  remain  inapprehensible  to  me  only  till  I 
have  acquired  the  might  for  apprehension  and  call  vou 
my  own;  I  do  not  give  myself  up  before  you,  but  only 


OW'NNESS 


175 


bide  my  time.  Even  if  for  the  present  I  put  up  with  my 
inabihty  to  touch  you,  I  yet  remember  it  against  you. 

Vigorous  men  have  always  done  so.  When  the  "loyaF' 
had  exalted  an  unsubdued  power  to  be  their  master  and 
had  adored  it,  when  they  had  demanded  adoration  from 
all,  then  there  came  some  such  son  of  nature  who  would 
not  loyally  submit,  and  drove  the  adored  power  from  its 
inaccessible  Olympus.  He  cried  his  "Stand  still"  to  the 
rolling  sun,  and  made  the  earth  go  round ;  the  loyal  had 
to  make  the  best  of  it ;  he  laid  his  axe  to  the  sacred  oaks, 
and  the  ''loyal"  were  astonished  that  no  heavenly  fire  con- 
sumed him ;  he  threw  the  pope  off  Peter's  chair,  and  the 
''loyal"  had  no  way  to  hinder  it;  he  is  tearing  down  the 
divine-right  business,  and  the  ''loyal"  croak  in  vain,  and 
at  last  are  silent. 

My  freedom  becomes  complete  only  when  it  is  my — 
might;  but  by  this  I  cease  to  be  a  merely  free  man,  and 
become  an  own  man.  Why  is  the  freedom  of  the  peoples 
a  "hollow  word"?  Because  the  peoples  have  no  might! 
With  a  breath  of  the  living  ego  I  blow  peoples  over,  be  it 
the  breath  of  a  Nero,  a  Chinese  emperor,  or  a  poor  writer. 

Why  is  it  that  the  G  *  legislatures  pine  in  vain 

for  freedom,  and  are  lectured  for  it  by  the  cabinet  min- 
isters ?  Because  they  are  not  of  the  "mighty" !  Might  is 
a  fine  thing,  and  useful  for  many  purposes ;  for  "one  goes 
further  with  a  handful  of  might  than  with  a  bagful  of 
right."  You  long  for  freedom?  You  fools!  If  you  took 
might,  freedom  would  come  of  itself.  See,  he  who  has 
might  "stands  above  the  law."  How  does  this  prospect 
taste  to  you,  you  "law-abiding"  people?  But  you  have  no 
taste ! 

The  cry  for  "freedom"  rings  loudly  all  around.  But 
is  it  felt  and  known  what  a  donated  or  chartered  freedom 
must  mean?  It  is  not  recognized  in  the  full  amplitude  of 
the  word  that  all  freedom  is  essentially — self-liberation — 
i.  e.,  that  I  can  have  only  so  much  freedom  as  I  procure 


*  [Meaning  "German."  Written  in  this  form  because  of  the 
censorship.}  - 


176  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


for  myself  by  my  ownness.  Of  what  use  is  it  to  sheep 
that  no  one  abridges  their  freedom  of  speech?  They 
stick  to  bleating.  Give  one  who  is  inwardly  a  Moham- 
medan, a  Jew,  or  a  Christian,  permission  to  speak  what 
he  likes  :  he  will  yet  utter  only  narrow-minded  stuff.  If,  on 
the  contrary,  certain  others  rob  you  of  the  freedom  of 
speaking  and  hearing,  they  know  quite  rightly  wherein 
lies  their  temporary  advantage,  as  you  would  perhaps  be 
able  to  say  and  hear  something  whereby  those  ''certain" 
persons  would  lose  their  credit. 

If  they  nevertheless  give  you  freedom,  they  are  simply 
knaves  who  give  more  than  they  have.  For  then  they 
give  you  nothing  of  their  own,  but  stolen  wares:  they 
give  you  your  own  freedom,  the  freedom  that  you  must 
take  for  yourselves ;  and  they  give  it  to  you  only  that  you 
may  not  take  it  and  call  the  thieves  and  cheats  to  an 
account  to  boot.  In  their  slyness  they  know  well  that 
given  (chartered)  freedom  is  no  freedom,  since  only  the 
freedom  one  takes  for  himself,  therefore  the  egoist's 
freedom,  rides  with  full  sails.  Donated  freedom  strikes 
its  sails  as  soon  as  there  comes  a  storm — or  calm;  it 
requires  always  a — gentle  and  moderate  breeze. 

Here  lies  the  difference  between  self-liberation  and 
emancipation  (manumission,  setting  free).  Those  who 
to-day  "stand  in  the  opposition"  are  thirsting  and  scream- 
ing to  be  ''set  free."  The  princes  are  to  "declare  their 
peoples  of  age,"  i.  e.  emancipate  them !  Behave  as  if  you 
were  of  age,  and  you  are  so  without  any  declaration  of 
majority;  if  you  do  not  behave  accordingly,  you  are  not 
worthy  of  it,  and  would  never  be  of  age  even  by  a  declara- 
tion of  majority.  When  the  Greeks  were  of  age,  they 
drove  out  their  tyrants,  and,  when  the  son  is  of  age,  he 
makes  himself  independent  of  his  father.  If  the  Greeks 
had  waited  till  their  tyrants  graciously  allowed  them  their 
majority,  they  might  have  waited  long.  A  sensible  father 
throws  out  a  son  who  will  not  come  of  age,  and  keeps  the 
house  to  himself ;  it  serves  the  noodle  right. 

The  man  who  is  set  free  is  nothing  but  a  freedman,  a 
Uhertinus,  a  dog  dragging  a  piece  of  chain  with  him:  he 


OWNNESS 


177 


is  an  unfree  man  in  the  garment  of  freedom,  like  the 
ass  in  the  hon's  skin.  Emancipated  Jews  are  nothing  bet- 
tered in  themselves,  but  only  relieved  as  Jews,  although 
he  who  relieves  their  condition  is  certainly  more  than  a 
churchly  Christian,  as  the  latter  cannot  do  this  without 
inconsistency.  But,  emancipated  or  not  emancipated, 
Jew  remains  Jew ;  he  who  is  not  self-freed  is  merely  an — 
emancipated  man.  The  Protestant  State  can  certainly  set 
free  (emancipate)  the  Catholics;  but,  because  they  do 
not  make  themselves  free,  they  remain  simply — Catholics. 

Selfishness  and  unselfishness  have  already  been  spoken 
of.  The  friends  of  freedom  are  exasperated  against  sel- 
fishness because  in  their  religious  striving  after  freedom 
they  cannot — free  themselves  from  that  sublime  thing, 
"self-renunciation/'  The  liberaFs  anger  is  directed 
against  egoism,  for  the  egoist,  you  know,  never  takes 
trouble  about  a  thing  for  the  sake  of  the  thing,  but  for  his 
sake ;  the  thing  must  serve  him.  It  is  egoistic  to  ascribe 
to  no  thing  a  value  of  its  own,  an  "absolute"  value,  but 
to  seek  its  value  in  me.  One  often  hears  that  pot-boiling 
study  which  is  so  common  counted  among  the  most  repul- 
sive traits  of  egoistic  behavior,  because  it  manifests  the 
most  shameful  desecration  of  science ;  but  what  is  science 
for  but  to  be  consumed  ?  If  one  does  not  know  how  to 
use  it  for  anything  better  than  to  keep  the  pot  boiling, 
then  his  egoism  is  a  petty  one  indeed,  because  this  egoist's 
power  is  a  limited  power;  but  the  egoistic  element  in  it, 
and  the  desecration  of  science,  only  a  possessed  man  can 
blame. 

Because  Christianity,  incapable  of  letting  the  individual 
count  as  an  ego,  *  thought  of  him  only  as  a  dependent, 
and  was  properly  nothing  but  a  social  theory — a  doctrine 
of  living  together,  and  that  of  man  with  God  as  well  as 
of  man  with  man — ^therefore  in  it  everything  "own"  must 
fall  into  most  woful  disrepute :  selfishness,  self-will,  own- 
ness,  self-love,  etc.  The  Christian  way  of  looking  at 
things  has  on  all  sides  gradually  re-istamped  honorable 


*  [Einzige] 


178 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


words  into  dishonorable ;  why  should  they  not  be  brought 
into  honor  again?  So  Schimpf  (contumely)  is  in  its  old 
sense  equivalent  to  jest,  but  for  Christian  seriousness 
pastime  became  a  dishonor,  *  for  that  seriousness  cannot 
take  a  joke;  frech  (impudent)  formerly  meant  only  bold, 
brave;  Frevel  (wanton  outrage)  was  only  daring.  It  is 
well  known  how  askance  the  word  ''reason"  was  looked 
at  for  a  long  time. 

Our  language  has  settled  itself  pretty  well  to  the  Chris- 
tian standpoint,  and  the  general  consciousness  is  still  too 
Chri^ian  not  to  shrink  in  terror  from  everything  unchris- 
tion  as  from  something  incomplete  or  evil.  Therefore 
^'selfishness''  is  in  a  bad  way  too. 

Selfishness,  f  in  the  Christian  sense,  means  something 
like  this :  I  look  only  to  see  whether  anything  is  of  use 
to  me  as  a  sensual  man.  But  is  sensuality  then  the 
whole  of  my  ownness?  Am  I  in  my  own  senses  when 
I  am  given  up  to  sensuality?  Do  I  follow  myself,  my 
own  determination,  when  I  follow  that?  I  am  my  own 
only  when  I  am  master  of  myself,  instead  of  being  mas- 
tered either  by  sensuality  or  by  anything  else  (God,  man, 
authority,  law,  State,  Church,  etc.)  ;  what  is  of  use  to  me, 
this  self-owned  or  self-appertaining  one,  my  selfishness 
pursues. 

Besides,  one  sees  himself  every  moment  compelled  to 
believe  in  that  constantly-blasphemed  selfishness  as  an 
all-controlling  power.  In  the  session  of  February  10, 
1844,  Welcker  argues  a  motion  on  the  dependence  of 
the  judges,  and  sets  forth  in  a  detailed  speech  that  re- 
movable, dismissable,  transferable,  and  pensionable 
judges — in  short,  such  members  of  a  court  of  justice  as 
can  by  mere  administrative  process  be  damaged  and  en- 
dangered— are  wholly  without  reliability,  yes.  lose  all 
respect  and  all  confidence  amon^  the  people.  The  whole 
bench,  Welcker  cries,  is  demoralized  by  this  dependence ! 
In  blunt  words  this  means  nothing  else  than  that  the 

*  ri  take  Entbehrung,  "destitution,"  to  be  a  misprint  for 
Entehrung,"] 

f  [Eigennutz,  literally  "own  use."] 


OWNNESS 


179 


judges  find  it  more  to  their  advantage  to  give  judgment 
as  the  ministers  would  have  them  than  to  give  it  as  the 
law  would  have  them.  How  is  that  to  be  helped?  Per- 
haps by  bringing  home  to  the  judges'  hearts  the  ignomini- 
ousness  of  their  venality,  and  then  cherishing  the  con- 
fidence that  they  will  repent  and  henceforth  prize  justice 
more  highly  than  their  selfishness?  No,  the  people  does 
not  soar  to  this  romantic  confidence,  for  it  feels  that  self- 
ishness is  mightier  than  any  other  motive.  Therefore  the 
dame  persons  who  have  been  judges  hitherto  may  remam 
jio,  however  thoroughly  one  has  convinced  himself  tnat 
they,  behaved  as  egoists ;  only  they  must  not  any  longer 
find  their  selfishness  favored  by  the  venality  of  justice, 
but  mijst  stand  so  independent  of  the  government  that 
by  a  judgment  in  conformity  with  the  facts  they  do  not 
throw  into  the  shade  their  own  cause,  their  ''well-under- 
stood interest,''  but  rather  secure  a  comfortable  combina- 
tion of  a  good  salary  with  respect  among  the  citizens. 

So  Welcker  and  the  commoners  of  Baden  consider 
themselves  secured  only  when  they  can  count  on  selfish- 
ness. What  is  one  to  think,  then,  of  the  countless  phrases 
of  unselfishness  with  which  their  mouths  overflow  at  other 
times  ? 

To  a  cause  which  I  am  pushing  selfishly  I  have  another 
relation  than  to  one  which  I  am  serving  unselfishly.  The 
following  criterion  might  be  cited  for  it :  against  the  one 
I  can  sin  or  commit  a  sin,  the  other  I  can  only  trifle  azvay. 
push  from  me,  deprive  myself  of — i.  e.  commit  an  im- 
prudence. Free  trade  is  looked  at  in  both  ways,  being 
regarded  partly  as  a  freedom  which  may  under  certain 
circumstances  be  granted  or  withdrawn,  partly  as  one 
which  is  to  be  held  sacred  under  all  circumstances. 

If  I  am  not  concerned  about  a  thing  in  and  for  itself, 
and  do  not  desire  it  for  its  own  sake,  then  T  desire  it 
solely  as  a  means  to  an  end,  for  its  usefulness :  for  the 
sake  of  another  end;  e.  g.,  oysters  for  a  pleasant  flavor. 
Now  will  not  every  thing  whose  final  end  he  himself  is 
serve  the  egoist  as  means?  and  is  he  to  protect  a  thing 


180 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


that  serves  him  for  nothing — e,  g.,  the  proletarian  to 
protect  the  State  ? 

Ownness  includes  in  itself  everything  own,  and  brings 
to  honor  again  what  Christian  language  dishonored.  But 
ownness  has  not  any  alien  standard  either,  as  it  is  not 
in  any  sense  an  idea  like  freedom,  morality,  humanity, 
and  the  like :  it  is  only  a  description  of  the — owner. 


II 

THE  OWNER 

I — do  I  come  to  myself  and  mine  through  liberalism? 

Whom  does  the  liberal  look  upon  as  his  equal  ?  Man ! 
Be  only  man — and  that  you  are  anyway — and  the  liberal 
calls  you  his  brother.  He  asks  very  little  about  your 
private  opinions  and  private  follies,  if  only  he  can  espy 
''Man"  in  you. 

But,  as  he  takes  little  heed  of  what  you  are  privatim 
— nay,  in  a  strict  following  out  of  his  principle  gets  no 
value  at  all  on  it — he  sees  in  you  only  what  you  are  gen- 
eratim.  In  other  words,  he  sees  in  you,  not  yon,  but  the 
species;  not  Tom  or  Jim,  but  Man;  not  the  real  or  unique 
one,"^  but  your  essence  or  your  concept;  not  the  bodily 
man,  but  the  spirit. 

As  Tom  you  would  not  be  his  equal,  because  he  is  him, 
therefore  not  Tom;  as  man  you  are  the  same  that  he  is. 
And,  since  as  Tom  you  virtually  do  not  exist  at  all 
for  him  (so  far,  to  wit,  as  he  is  a  liberal  and  not  uncon- 
sciously an  egoist),  he  has  really  made  ''brother-love" 
very  easy  for  himself :  he  loves  in  you  not  Tom,  of  whom 
he  knows  nothing  and  wants  to  know  nothing,  but  Man. 

To  see  in  you  and  me  nothing  further  than  "men,"  that 


*  [Einzigen] 


THE  OWNER 


181 


is  running  the  Christian  way  of  looking  at  things  accord- 
ing to  which  one  is  for  the  other  nothing  but  a  concept 
{e.  g,  a  man  called  to  salvation,  etc.),  into  the  ground. 

Christianity  properly  so  called  gathers  us  under  less 
utterly  general  concept:  there  we  are  ''sons  of  God"  and 
'led  by  the  Spirit  of  God/''^  Yet  not  all  can  boast  of 
being  God's  sons,  but  *'the  same  Spirit  which  witnesses  to 
our  spirit  that  we  are  sons  of  God  reveals  also  who  are 
the  sons  of  the  devil. t  Consequently,  to  be  a  son  of  God 
one  must  not  be  a  son  of  the  devil ;  the  sonship  of  God 
excluded  certain  men.  To  be  sons  of  men — i.  e.  men — 
on  the  contrary,  we  need  nothing  but  to  belong  to  the 
human  species,  need  only  to  be  specimens  of  the  same 
species.  What  I  am  as  this  I  is  no  concern  of  yours  as  a 
good  liberal,  but  is  my  private  affair  alone;  enough  that 
we  are  both  sons  of  one  and  the  same  mother,  to  wit,  the 
human  species:  as  "a  son  of  man"  I  am  your  equal. 

What  am  I  now  to  you?  Perhaps  this  bodily  f  as  I 
walk  and  stand?  Anything  but  that.  This  bodily  I,  with 
its  thoughts,  decisions,  and  passions,  is  in  your  eyes  a 
''private  affair"  which  is  no  concern  of  yours,  it  is  an 
''affair  by  itself."  As  an  "affair  for  you"  there  exists 
only  my  concept,  my  generic  concept,  only  the  Man,  who, 
as  he  is  called  Tom,  could  just  as  well  be  Joe  or  Dick. 
You  see  in  me  not  me,  the  bodily  man,  but  an  unreal 
thing,  the  spook,  i,  e.  a  Man. 

In  the  course  of  the  Christian  centuries  we  declare 
the  most  various  persons  to  be  "our  equals,'  but  each 
time  in  the  measure  of  that  spirit  which  we  expected  from 
them — e.  g.  each  one  in  whom  the  spirit  of  the  need  of 
redemption  may  be  assumed,  then  later  each  one  who  has 
the  spirit  of  integrity,  finally  each  one  who  shows  a  hu- 
man spirit  and  a  human  face.  Thus  the  fundamental 
principle  of  "equality"  varied. 

Equality  being  now  conceived  as  equality  of  the  human 
spirit,  there,  has  certainly  been  discovered  an  equalitv 
that  includes  all  men :  for  who  could  deny  that  we  men 
have  a  human  spirit,  i.  e.  no  other  than  a  human! 


*  Rom.  8,  14. 


t€f.  1  John  3,  10  with  Rom.  8,  16. 


182 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


But  are  we  on  that  account  further  on  now  than  in 
the  beginning  of  Christianity  ?  Then  we  were  to  have 
a  divine  spirit,  now  a  human;  but,  if  the  divine  did  not 
exhaust  us,  how  should  the  human  wholly  express  what 
zve  are  ?  Feuerbach,  e,  g.,  thinks  that,  if  he  humanizes  the 
divine,  be  has  found  the  truth.  No,  if  God  has  given 
us  pain,  ''Man''  is  capable  of  pinching  us  still  more  tor- 
turingly.  The  long  and  the  short  of  it  is  this:  that  we 
are  men  i|l  the  slightest  thing  about  us,  and  has  significance 
only  in  so  far  as  it  is  one  of  our  qualities,^  i.  e.  our  prop- 
erty.f  I  am  indeed  among  other  things  a  man,  as  I  am, 
e.  g.,  a  living  being,  therefore  an  animal,  or  a  European, 
and  the  like;  but  he  who  chose  to  have  regard  for  me 
only  as  a  man,  or  as  a  Berliner,  would  pay  me  a  regard 
that  would  be  very  unimportant  to  me.  And  where- 
fore? Because  he  would  have  regard  only  for  one  of  my 
qualities,  not  iov  me. 

It  is  just  so  with  the  spirit  too.  A  Christian  spirit,  an 
upright  spirit,  and  the  like  may  well  be  my  acquired  qual- 
ity, i.  e,  my  property,  but  I  am  not  this  spirit :  it  is  mine, 
not  I  its. 

Hence  we  have  in  liberalism  only  the  continuation  of 
the  old  Christian  depreciation  of  the  I,  the  bodily  Tom. 
Instead  of  taking  me  as  I  am,  one  looks  solely  at  my 
property,  my  qualities,  and  enters  into  marriage  bonds 
with  me  only  for  the  sake  of  my— possessions ;  one  mar- 
ries, as  it  were,  what  I  have,  not  what  I  am.  The  Chris- 
tian takes  hold  of  my  spirit,  the  liberal  of  my  humanity. 

But,  if  the  spirit,  which  is  not  regarded  as  the  prop- 
erty of  the  bodily  ego  but  as  the  proper  ego  itself,  is  a 
ghost,  then  the  Man  too,  who  is  not  recognized  as  my 
quality  but  as  the  proper  I,  is  nothing  but  a  spook,  a 
thought,  a  concept. 

Therefore  the  liberal  too  revolves  in  the  same  circle  as 
the  Christian.  Because  the  spirit  of  mankind,  i.  e.  Man,i 
dwells  in  you,  you  are  a  man  as  when  the  spirit  of  Christ 
dwells  in  you,  you  are  a  Christian ;  but,  because  it  dwells 


*  [Etaenschaffen] 


t  [Eigentum] 


I  •  THE  OWNER  183 

in  you  only  as  a  second  ego,  even  though  it  be  as  your 
proper  or  ''better"  ego,  it  remains  otherwordly  to  you,  and 
you  have  to  strive  to  become  wholly  man.  A  striving 
just  as  fruitless  as  the  Christian's  to  become  wholly  a 
blessed  spirit! 

One  can  now,  after  liberalism  has  proclaimed  Man, 
declare  openly  that  herewith  was  only  completed  the  con- 
sistent carrying  out  of  Christianity,  and  that  in  truth 
Christianity  set  itself  no  other  task  from  the  start  than 
to  realize  ''man,''  the  "true  man."  Hence,  then,  the  illu- 
sion that  Christianity  ascribes  an  infinite  value  to  the 
ego  (as  e,  g.  in  the  doctrine  of  immortality,  in  the  cure  of 
souls,  etc.)  comes  to  light.  No,  it  assigns  this  value  to 
Man  alone.  Only  Man  is  immortal,  and  only  because  I 
am  man  am  I  too  immortal.  In  fact,  Christianity  had  to 
teach  that  no  one  is  lost,  just  as  liberalism  had  to  teach 
that  no  one  is  lost,  just  as  liberalism  too  puts  all  on  an 
equality  as  men;  but  that  eternity,  like  this  equality, 
applied  only  to  the  Man  in  me,  not  to  me.  Only  as  the 
bearer  and  harborer  of  Man  do  I  not  die,  as  notoriously 
"the  king  never  dies."  Louis  dies,  but  the  king  remains ; 
I  die,  but  my  spirit,  Man,  remains.  To  identify  me  now 
entirely  with  Man  the  demand  has  been  invented,  and 
stated,  that  I  must  become  a  "real  generic  being."* 

The  HUMAN  religion  is  only  the  last  metamorphosis  of 
the  Christian  religion.  For  liberalism  is  a  religion  because 
it  separates  my  essence  from  me  and  sets  it  above  me, 
because  it  exalts  "Man"  to  the  same  extent  as  any  other 
religion  does  its  God  or  idol,  because  it  makes  what  is 
mine  into  something  otherwordly,  because  in  general  it 
makes  out  of  what  is  mine,  out  of  my  qualities  and  my 
property,  something  alien — to  wit,  an  "essence" ;  in  short, 
because  it  sets  me  beneath  Man,  and  thereby  creates  for 
me  a  "vocation."  But  liberalism  declares  itself  a  religion 
in  form  too  when  it  demands  for  this  supreme  being,  Man, 
a  zeal  of  faith,  "a  faith  that  some  day  will  at  last  prove 

*  E,  g.  Marx  in  the  "Deutsch-fransoesische  Jahrhuechery^  p. 
197. 

t  Br.  Bauer,   Juden  frage,'''  p.  61. 


184  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


its  fiery  zeal  too,  a  zeal  that  will  be  invincible."t  B^t, 
as  liberalism  is  a  human  religion,  its  professor  takes  a 
tolerant  attitude  toward  the  professor  of  any  other  (Cath- 
olic, Jewish,  etc.),  as  Frederick  the  Great  did  toward 
every  one  who  performed  his  duties  as  a  subject,  what- 
ever fashion  of  becoming  blest  he  might  be  inclined  to- 
ward. This  religion  is  now  to  be  raised  to  the  rank  of 
the  generally  customary  one,  and  separated  from  the 
others  as  mere  ^'private  follies,"  toward  which,  besides, 
one  takes  a  highly  liberal  attitude  on  account  of  their 
tmessentialness. 

One  may  call  it  the  State-religion,  the  religion  of  the 
■"'free  State,''  not  in  the  sense  hitherto  current  that  it  is 
the  one  favored  or  privileged  by  the  State,  but  as  that 
religion  which  the  "free  State"  not  only  has  the  right, 
but  is  compelled,  to  demand  from  each  of  those  who  be- 
long to  it,  let  him  be  privatim  a  Jew,  a  Christian,  or 
anything  else.  For  it  does  the  same  service  to  the  State 
as  filial  piety  to  the  family.  If  the  family  is  to  be  recog- 
nized and  maintained,  in  its  existing  condition,  by  each 
one  of  those  who  belong  to  it,  then  to  him  the  tie  of 
blood  must  be  sacred,  and  his  feeling  for  it  must  be  that 
of  piety,  of  respect  for  the  ties  of  blood,  by  which  every 
blood-relation  becomes  to  him  a  consecrated  person.  So 
also  to  every  member  of  the  State-community  this  com- 
munity must  be  sacred,  and  the  concept  which  is  the 
highest  to  the  State  must  likewise  be  the  highest  to  him. 

But  what  concept  is  the  highest  to  the  State  ?  Doubt- 
less that  of  being  a  really  human  society,  a  society  in 
which  every  one  who  is  really  a  man,  i,  e.y  not  an  un- 
man, can  obtain  admission  as  a  member.  Let  a  State's 
tolerance  go  ever  so  far,  toward  an  un-man  and  toward 
what  is  inhuman  it  ceases.  And  yet  this  ''un-man"  is 
a  man,  yet  the  ''inhuman"  itself  is  something  human,  yes, 
possible  only  to  a  man,  not  to  any  beast;  it  is,  in  fact, 
semething  "possible  to  man."  But,  although  every  un- 
man is  a  man,  yet  the  State  excludes  him ;  i.  e.,  it  locks 
him  up,  or  transforms  him  from  a  fellow  of  the  State 


THE  OWNER 


185 


into  a  fellow  of  the  prison  (fellow  of  the  lunatic  asylum 
or  hospital,  according  to  Communism). 

To  say  in  blunt  words  what  an  un-man  is  is  not  par- 
ticularly hard:  it  is  a  man  who  does  not  correspond  to 
the  concept  man,  as  the  inhuman  is  something  human 
which  is  not  conformed  to  the  concept  of  the  human. 
Logic  calls  this  a  ''self-contradictory  judgment."  Would 
it  be  permissible  for  one  to  pronounce  this  judgment, 
that  one  can  be  a  man  without  being  a  man,  if  he  did  not 
admit  the  hypothesis  that  the  concept  of  man  can  be 
separated  from  the  existence,  the  essence  from  the  ap- 
pearance? They  say,  he  appears  indeed  as  a  man,  but 
is  not  a  man. 

Men  have  passed  this  "self-contradictory  judgment'' 
through  a  long  line  of  centuries !  Nay,  what  is  still  more, 
in  this  long  time  there  were  only — un-men.  What  in- 
dividual can  have  corresponded  to  his  concept?  Chris- 
tianity knows  only  one  Man,  and  this  one — Christ — is 
at  once  an  un-man  again  in  the  reverse  sense,  to  wit,  a 
superhuman  man,  a  "God."  Only  the — un-man  is  a 
real  man. 

Men  that  are  not  men,  what  should  they  be  but  ghosts  f 
Every  real  man,  because  he  does  not  correspond  to  the 
concept  "man,"  or  because  he  is  not  a  "generic  man,"  is 
a  spook.  But  do  I  still  remain  an  un-man  even  if  I  bring 
Man  (who  towered  above  me  and  remained  otherwordly 
to  me  only  as  my  ideal,  my  task,  my  essence  or  concept) 
down  to  be  my  quality,  my  own  and  inherent  in  me ;  so  that 
Man  is  nothing  else  than  my  humanity,  my  human  exist- 
ence, and  everything  that  I  do  is  human  precisely  because 
/  do  it,  but  not  because  it  corresponds  to  the  concept 
"man"?  /  am  really  Man  and  the  un-man  in  one;  for 
I  am  a  man  and  at  the  same  time  more  than  a  man; 
i.  e.,  I  am  the  ego  of  this  my  mere  quality. 

It  had  to  come  to  this  at  last,  that  it  was  no  longer 
merely  demanded  of  us  to  be  Christians,  but  to  become 
men;  for,  though  we  could  never  really  become  even 
Christians,  but  always  remained  "poor  sinners"  (for  the 
Christian  was  an  unattainable  ideal  too),  yet  in  this  the 


186 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


contradictoriness  did  not  come  before  our  consciousness 
so,  and  the  illusion  was  easier  than  now  when  of  us, 
who  are  men  and  act  humanly  (yes,  cannot  do  otherwise 
than  be  such  and  act  so),  the  demand  is  made  that  we 
are  to  be  men,  "real  men/' 

Our  States  of  to-day,  because  they  still  have  all  sorts 
of  things  sticking  to  them,  left  from  their  churchly 
mother,  do  indeed  load  those  who  belong  to  them  with 
various  obligations  (e.  g.  churchly  religiousness)  which 
properly  do  not  a  bit  concern  them,  the  States;  yet  on 
the  whole  they  do  not  deny  their  significance,  since  they 
want  to  be  looked  upon  as  human  societies,  in  which  man 
as  man  can  be  a  member,  even  if  he  is  less  privileged  than 
other  members;  most  of  them  admit  adherents  of  every 
religious  sect,  and  receive  people  without  distinction  of 
race  or  nation:  Jews,  Turks,  Moors,  etc.,  can  become 
French  citizens.  In  the  act  of  reception,  therefore,  the 
State  looks  only  to  see  whether  one  is  a  man.  The  Church, 
as  a  society  of  believers,  could  not  receive  every  man  into 
her  bosom;  the  State,  as  a  society  of  men,  can.  But, 
when  the  State  has  carried  its  principle  clear  through,  of 
presupposing  in  its  constituents  nothing  but  that  they 
are  men  (even  the  North  Americans  still  presuppose  in 
theirs  that  they  have  religion,  at  least  the  religion  of  in- 
tegrity, of  respectability),  then  it  has  dug  its  grave.  While 
it  will  fancy  that  those  w^hom  it  possesses  are  without 
exception  men,  these  have  meanwhile  become  without 
exception  egoists,  each  of  whom  utilizes  it  according  to 
his  egoistic  powers  and  ends.  Against  the  egoists  ''hu- 
man society'^  is  wrecked ;  for  they  no  longer  have  to  do 
with  each  other  as  men,  but  appear  egoistically  as  an  / 
against  a  You  altogether  different  from  me  and  in  opposi- 
tion to  me. 

If  the  State  must  count  on  our  humanity,  it  is  the 
same  if  one  says  it  must  count  on  our  morality.  Seeing 
Man  in  each  other,  and  acting  as  men  toward  each  other, 
is  called  moral  behavior.  This  is  every  whit  the  "spiritual 
love''  of  Christianity.  For,  if  I  see  Man  in  you,  as  in 
myself  I  see  Man  and  nothing  but  Man,  then  I  care  for 


THE  OWNER 


187 


you  as  I  would  care  for  myself ;  for  we  represent,  you 
see,  nothing  but  the  mathematical  proposition:  A=C  and 
B=C,  consequently  A::::::B — i.  e.,  i  nothing  but  man  and 
you  nothing  but  man,  consequently  I  and  you  the  same. 
Morality  is  incompatible  with  egoism,  because  the  former 
does  not  allow  validity  to  me,  but  only  to  the  Man  in  me. 
But,  if  the  State  is  a  society  of  men,  not  a  union  of  egos 
each  of  whom  has  only  himself  before  his  eyes,  then  it 
cannot  last  without  morality,  and  must  insist  on  morality. 

Therefore  we  two,  the  State  and  I,  are  enemies.  I, 
the  egoist,  have  not  at  heart  the  welfare  of  this  ''human 
society,"  I  sacrifice  nothing  to  it,  I  only  utilize  it ;  but  to 
be  able  to  utilize  it  completely  I  transform  it  rather  into 
my  property  and  my  creature — i.  e.,  I  annihilate  it,  and 
form  in  its  place  the  Union  of  Egoists. 

So  the  State  betrays  its  enmity  to  me  by  demanding 
that  I  be  a  man,  which  presupposes  that  I  may  also  not  be 
a  man,  but  rank  for  it  as  an  ''un-man";  it  imposes  being 
a  man  upon  me  as  a  duty.  Further,  it  desires  me  to  do 
nothing  along  with  which  it  cannot  last ;  so  its  permanence 
is  to  be  sacred  for  me.  Then  I  am  not  to  be  an  egoist, 
but  a  ''respectable,  upright/'  i.  e.  moral,  man.  Enough, 
before  it  and  its  permanence  I  am  to  be  impotent  and 
respectful — etc. 

This  State,  not  a  present  one  indeed,  but  still  in  need 
of  being  first  created,  is  the  ideal  of  advancing  liberalism. 
There  is  to  come  into  existence  a  true  "society  of  men,"  in 
which  every  "man"  finds  room.  Liberalism  means  to 
realize  "Man,"  i.  e.  create  a  world  for  him ;  and  this 
should  be  the  human  world  or  the  general  (Communistic) 
society  of  men.  It  was  said,  "The  Church  could  regard 
only  the  spirit,  the  State  is  to  regard  the  whole  man."''' 
But  is  not  "Man"  "spirit"?  The  kernel  of  the  State  is 
simply  "Man,"  this  unreality,  and  it  itself  is  only  a  "so- 
ciety of  men."  The  world  which  the  believer  (believing 
spirit)  creates  is  called  Church,  the  w^orld  which  the  man 
(human  or  humane  spirit)  creates  is  called  State.  But 


*  Hess,  "Triarchie/'  p.  76. 


188 


THE  EGO  AND  BIS  OWN 


that  is  not  my  world.  I  never  execute  anything  human 
m  the  abstract,  but  always  my  own  things  ;i.  e.,  my  human 
act  is  diverse  from  every  other  human  act,  and  only  by 
this  diversity  is  it  a  real  act  belonging  to  me.  The  human 
in  it  is  an  abstraction,  and,  as  such,  spirit,  i,  e,  abstracted 
essence. 

Br.  Bauer  states  {e,  g,  ''Jtidenfrage/'  p.  84)  that  the 
truth  of  criticism  is  the  final  truth,  and  in  fact  the 
truth  sought  for  by  Christianity  itself — to  wit,  ''Man." 
He  says,  ''The  history  of  the  Christian  world  is  the  his- 
tory of  the  supreme  fight  for  truth,  for  in  it — and  in  it 
only ! — the  thing  at  issue  is  the  discovery  of  the  final  or 
the  primal  truth — man  and  freedom." 

All  right,  let  us  accept  this  gain,  and  let  us  take  ma;i 
as  the  ultimately  found  result  of  Christian  history  and 
of  the  religious  or  ideal  efforts  of  man  in  general.  Now, 
who  is  Man?  /  am!  Man,  the  end  and  outcome  of 
Christianity,  is,  as  /,  the  beginning  and  raw  material  of 
the  new  history,  a  history  of  enjoyment  after  the  history 
of  sacrifices,  a  history  not  of  man  or  humanity,  but  of — 
me,  Man  ranks  as  the  general.  Now  then,  I  and  the 
egoistic  are  the  really  general,  since  every  one  is  an 
egoist  and  of  paramount  importance  to  himself.  The  Jew- 
ish is  not  the  purely  egoistic,  because  the  Jew  still  devotes 
himself  to  Jehovah;  the  Christian  is  not,  because  the 
Christian  lives  on  the  grace  of  God  and  subjects  himself 
to  him.  As  Jew  and  as  Christian  alike  a  man  satisfies  only 
certain  of  his  wants,  only  a  certain  need,  not  himself: 
a  half-egoisniy  because  the  egoism  of  a  half-man,  who  is 
half  he,  half  Jew,  or  half  his  own  proprietor,  half  a  slave. 
Therefore,  too,  Jew  and  Christian  always  halfway  ex- 
clude each  other ;  i.  e.,  as  man  they  recognize  each  other, 
as  slaves  they  exclude  each  other,  because  they  are  ser- 
vants of  two  different  masters.  If  they  could  be  com- 
plete egoists,  they  would  exclude  each  other  wholly  and 
hold  together  so  much  the  more  firmly.  Their  ignominy 
is  not  that  they  exclude  each  other,  but  that  this  is  done 
only  half-way,  Br.  Bauer,  on  the  contrary,  thinks  Jews 
and  Christians  cannot  regard  and  treat  each  other  as 


THE  OWNER  189 

"men"  till  they  give  up  the  separate  essence  which  parts 
them  and  obligates  them  to  eternal  separation,  recognize 
the  general  essence  of  "Man,"  and  regard  this  as  their 
"true  essence." 

According  to  his  representation  the  defect  of  the  Jews 
and  the  Christians  alike  lies  in  their  wanting  to  be  and 
have  something  ^'particular"  instead  of  only  being  men 
and  endeavoring  after  what  is  human — to  wit,  the  "gen- 
eral rights  of  man."  He  thinks  their  fundamental  error 
consists  in  the  belief  that  they  are  ''privileged,"  possess 
''prerogatives";  in  general,  in  the  belief  in  prerogative/'' 
In  opposition  to  this  he  holds  up  to  them  the  general 
rights  of  man.    The  rights  of  man ! — 

Man  is  man  in  general,  and  in  so  far  every  one  who  is 
a  man.  Now  every  one  is  to  have  the  eternal  rights  of 
man,  and,  according  to  the  opinion  of  Communism,  enjoy 
them  in  the  complete  "democracy,"  or,  as  it  ought  more 
correctly  to  be  called — anthropocracy.  But  it  is  I  alone 
who  have  everything  that  I — procure  for  myself;  as 
man  I  have  nothing.  People  would  like  to  give  every  man 
an  affluence  of  all  good,  merely  because  he  has  the  title 
"man."  But  I  put  the  accent  on  me,  not  on  my  being 
man. 

Man  is  something  only  as  my  quality^  ( property ij:), 
like  masculinity  or  femininity.  The  ancients  found  the 
ideal  in  one's  being  male  in  the  full  sense ;  their  virtue 
is  virtus  and  arete— i.  e.  manliness.  What  is  one  to  think 
of  a  woman  who  should  want  only  to  be  perfectly  'Vom- 
an"  ?  That  is  not  given  to  all,  and  many  a  one  would 
therein  be  fixing  for  herself  an  unattainable  goal.  Femi- 
nine, on  the  other  hand,  she  is  anyhow,  by  nature ; 
femininity  is  her  quality,  and  she  does  not  need  "true 
femininity."  I  am  a  man  just  as  the  earth  is  a  star.  As 
ridiculous  as  it  would  be  to  set  the  earth  the  task  of  hein^ 
a  "thorough  star,"  so  ridiculous  it  is  to  burden  me  with 
the  call  to  be  a  "thorough  man." 


*  [Vorrecht,  literally  ''precedent  right."]  f  f Eigenschaft] 
t  [Eigentum]. 


190 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


When  Fichte  says,  ''The  ego  is  all,"  this  seems  to 
harmonize  perfectly  with  my  theses.  But  it  is  not  that 
the  ego  is  all,  but  the  ego  destroys  all,  and  only  the  self- 
dissolving  ego,  the  never-being  ego,  the — finite  ego  is  real- 
ly 1.  Fichte  speaks  of  the  "absolute''  ego,  but  I  speak  of 
me,  the  transitory  ego. 

How  natural  is  the  supposition  that  man  and  ego  rhean  ^ 
the  same !  and  yet  one  sees,  e.  g.,  by  Feuerbach,  that  the 
expression  ''man''  is  to  designate  the  absolute  ego,  the 
species,  not  the  transitory,  individual  ego.  Egoism  and 
humanity  (humaneness)  ought  to  mean  the  same,  but 
according  to  Feuerbach  the  individual  can  "only  lift  him- 
self above  the  limits  of  his  individuality,  but  not  above 
the  laws,  the  positive  ordinances,  of  his  species."'''  But 
the  species  is  nothing,  and,  if  the  individual  lifts  himself 
above  the  limits  of  his  individuality,  this  is  rather  his 
very  self  as  an  individual;  he  exists  only  in  raising  him- 
self, he  exists  only  in  not  remaining  what  he  is;  other- 
wise he  would  be  done,  dead.  Man  with  the  great  M  is 
only  an  ideal,  the  species  only  something  thought  of.  To 
be  a  man  is  not  to  realize  the  ideal  of  Man,  but  to  present 
one-self y  the  individual.  It  is  not  how  I  realize  the  gen- 
erally  human  that  needs  to  be  my  task,  but  how  I  satisfy 
myself.  /  am  my  species,  am  without  norm,  without  law, 
without  model,  and  the  like.  It  is  possible  that  I  can  make 
very  little  out  of  myself ;  but  this  little  is  everything, 
and  is  better  than  what  I  allow  to  be  made  out  of  me  by 
the  might  of  others,  by  the  training  of  custom,  religion, 
the  laws^  the  State,  etc.  Better — if  the  talk  is  to  be  of 
better  at  all — better  an  unmannerly  child  than  an  old  head 
on  young  shoulders,  better  a  mulish  man  than  a  man  com- 
pliant in  everything.  The  unmannerly  and  mulish  fellow 
is  still  on  the  way  to  form  himself  according  to  his  own 
will ;  the  prematurely  knowing^  and  compliant  one  is 
determined  by  the  "species,"  the  general  demands,  etc. 
— the  species  is  law  to  him.  He  is  determined^  by  it: 
for  what  else  is  the  species  to  him  but  his  "destiny,":|: 


*  "Essence  of  Christianity/'  2d  ed.,  p.  401. 

t  [bestimmt]  J  [Bestimmung] 


THE  OWNER 


191 


his  ''calling"  ?  Whether  I  look  to  ''humanity/'  the  species, 
in  order  to  strive  toward  this  ideal,  or  to  God  and  Christ 
with  like  endeavor,  where  is  the  essential  dissimilarity? 
At  most  the  former  is  more  washed-out  than  the  latter. 
As  the  individual  is  the  whole  of  nature,  so  he  is  the 
whole  of  the  species  too. 

Everything  that  I  do,  think,  etc. — in  short,  my  expres- 
sion or  manifestation — is  indeed  conditioned  by  what  I 
am.  The  Jew,  e.  g.,  can  will  only  thus  or  thus,  can  "pres- 
ent himself  only  thus;  the  Christian  can  present  and 
manifest  himself  only  christianly,  etc.  If  it  were  possible 
that  you  could  be  a  Jew  or  Christian,  you  would  indeea 
bring  out  only  what  was  Jewish  or  Christian;  but  it  is 
not  possible ;  in  the  most  rigorous  conduct  you  yet  remam 
an  egoist,  a  sinner  against  that  concept — i.  e.,  you  are 
not  the  precise  equivalent  of  Jew.  Now,  because  the 
egoistic  always  keeps  peeping  through,  people  have  in- 
quired for  a  more  perfect  concept  which  should  really 
wholly  express  what  you  are,  and  which,  because  it  is 
your  true  nature,  should  contain  all  the  laws  of  your 
activity.  The  most  perfect  thing  of  the  kind  has  been 
attained  in  "Man."  As  a  Jew  you  are  too  little,  and  the 
Jewish  is  not  your  task ;  to  be  a  Greek,  a  German,  does 
not  suffice.  But  be  a — man,  then  you  have  everything; 
look  upon  the  human  as  your  calling. 

Now  I  know  what  is  expected  of  me,  and  the  new 
catechism  can  be  written.  The  subject  is  again  subjected 
to  the  predicate,  the  individual  to  something  general ;  the 
dominion  is  again  secured  to  an  idea,  and  the  foundation 
laid  for  a  new  religion.  This  is  a  step  forward  in  the 
domain  of  religion,  and  in  particular  of  Christianity ;  not 
a  step  out  beyond  it. 

The  step  out  beyond  it  leads  into  the  unspeakable.  For 
me  paltry  language  has  no  word,  and  "the  Word,"  the 
Logos,  is  to  me  a  "mere  word." 

My  essence  is  sought  for.  If  not  the  Jew,  the  German, 
etc.,  then  at  any  rate  it  is — the  man.  "Man  is  my  es- 
sence." 

I  am  repulsive  or  repugnant  to  myself ;  I  have  a  horror 


192 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


and  loathing  of  myself,  I  am  a  horror  to  myself,  or,  I 
am  never  enough  for  myself  and  never  do  enough  to 
satisfy  myself.  From  such  feelings  springs  self-dissolu- 
tion or  self-criticism.  Religiousness  begins  with  self- 
renunciation,  ends  with  completed  criticism. 

I  am  possessed  and  want  to  get  rid  of  the  ''evil  spirit." 
How  do  I  set  about  it  ?  I  fearlessly  commit  the  sin  that 
seems  to  the  Christian  the  direst,  the  sin  and  blasphemy 
against  the  Holy  Spirit.  ''He  who  blasphemes  the  Holy 
Spirit  has  no  forgiveness  forever,  but  is  liable  to  the 
eternal  judgment  I  want  no  forgiveness,  and  am  not 
afraid  of  the  judgment. 

Man  is  the  last  evil  spirit  or  spook,  the  most  deceptive 
or  most  intimate,  the  craftiest  liar  with  honest  mien,  the 
father  of  lies. 

The  egoist,  turning  against  the  demands  and  concepts 
of  the  present,  executes  pitilessly  the  most  measureless 
— desecration.    Nothing  is  holy  to  him! 

It  would  be  foolish  to  assert  that  there  is  no  power 
above  mine.  Only  the  attitude  that  I  take  toward  it 
will  be  quite  another  than  that  of  the  religious  age:  I 
shall  be  the  enemy  of  every  higher  power,  while  religion 
teaches  us  to  make  it  our  friend  and  be  humble  toward  it. 

The  desecrator  puts  forth  his  strength  against  every 
fear  of  God,  for  fear  of  God  would  determine  him  m 
everything  that  he  left  standing  as  sacred.  Whether  it  is 
the  God  or  the  Man  that  exercises  the  hallowing  power 
in  the  God-man — whether,  therefore,  anything  is  held 
sacred  for  God's  sage  or  for  Man's  (Humanity's) — this 
does  not  change  the  fear  of  God,  since  Man  is  revered 
as  "supreme  essence,"  as  much  as  on  the  specifically 
religious  standpoint  God  as  "supreme  essence"  calls  for 
our  fear  and  reverence ;  both  overawe  us. 

The  fear  of  God  in  the  proper  sense  was  shaken  long 
ago,  and  a  more  or  less  conscious  "atheism,"  externally 
recognizable  by  a  wide-spread  "unchurchliness,"  has  in- 
voluntarily become  the  mode.    But  what  was  taken  from 


*  Mark  3,  29. 


THE  OWNER 


193 


God  has  been  superadded  to  Man,  and  the  power  of  hu-  j 
manity  grew  greater  in  just  the  degree  that  that  of  piety 

lost  weight:  "Man''  is  the  God  of  to-day,  and  fear  of  ' 

Man  has  taken  the  place  of  the  old  fear  of  God.  • 

But^  because  Man  represents  only  another  Supreme  ^ 

Being,  nothing  has  in  fact  taken  place  but  a  metamor-  ] 

phosis  in  the  Supreme  Being,  and  the  fear  of  Man  is  • 

merely  an  altered  form  of  the  fear  of  God.  i 

Our  atheists  are  pious  people.  i. 
If  in  the  so-called  feudal  times  we  held  everything  as 

a  fief  from  God,  in  the  liberal  period  the  same  feudal  S 
relation  exists  with  Man.    God  was  the  Lord,  now  Man 
is  the  Lord ;  God  was  the  Mediator,  now  Man  is ;  God 

was  the  Spirit,  now  Man  is.    In  this  threefold  regard  the  ;| 

feudal  relation  has  experienced  a  transformation.  For  ;| 
now,  firstly,  we  hold  as  a  fief  from  all-powerful  Man  our 

pozvcr,  which,  because  it  comes  from  a  higher,  is  not  ^ 

called  powxr  or  might,  but  ''right'' — the  ''rights  of  man'' ;  .J 
we  further  hold  as  a  fief  from  him  our  position  in  the 

world,  for  he,  the  mediator,  mediates  our  intercourse  with  | 

others,  which  therefore  may  not  be  otherwise  than  "hu-  3 

man"  ;  finally,  we  hold  as  a  fief  from  him  ourselves — to  i 

wit,  our  own  value,  or  all  that  we  are  worth — inasmuch  | 
as  we  are  worth  nothing  when  he  does  not  dwell  in  us, 
and  when  or  where  we  are  not  "human."    The  power  is 

Man's,  the  world  is  Man's,  I  am  Man's.  iji 

But  am  I  not  still  unrestrained  from  declaring  myself  | 
the  entitler,  the  mediator,  and  the  own  self  ?    Then  it 

runs  thus :  \ 

My  power  is  my  property.  ^  ii 

My  power  gives  me  property.  ' 


My  power  am  I  myself,  and  through  it  am  I  my 
property.  ß  i 


194  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


I— MY  POWER 

Right^  is  the  spirit  of  society.  If  society  has  a  will, 
this  will  is  simply  right :  society  exists  only  through  right. 
But,  as  it  endures  only  by  exercising  a  sovereignty  over 
individuals,  right  is  its  sovereign  will.  Aristotle  says 
justice  is  the  advantage  of  society. 

All  existing  right  is — foreign  law;  some  one  makes  me 
out  to  be  in  the  right,  ''does  right  by  me/'  But  should 
I  therefore  be  in  the  right  if  all  the  world  made  me  out 
so?  And  yet  what  else  is  the  right  that  I  obtain  in  the 
State,  in  society,  but  a  right  of  those  foreign  to  me  ? 
When  a  blockhead  makes  me  out  in  the  right,  I  grow 
distrustful  of  my  rightness ;  I  don't  like  to  receive  it 
from  him.  But,  even  when  a  wise  man  makes  me  out 
in  the  right,  I  nevertheless  am  not  in  the  right  on  that 
account.  Whether  /  am  in  the  right  is  completely  in- ' 
dependent  of  the  fool's  making  out  and  of  the  wise  man's. 

All  the  same,  we  have  coveted  this  right  till  now.  We 
seek  for  right,  and  turn  to  the  court  for  that  purpose. 
To  what?  To  a  royal,  a  papal,  a  popular  court,  etc. 
Can  a  sultanic  court  declare  another  right  than  that  which 
the  sultan's  law  ?  Can  it,  e.  g.,  concede  to  me  high  treason 
in  the  right  if  I  seek  for  a  right  that  does  not  agree  with 
the  sultan's  la'w?  Can  it,  e.  g.,  concede  to  me  high  treason 
as  a  right,  since  it  is  assuredly  not  a  right  according  to 
the  sultan's  mind  ?  Can  it  as  a  court  of  censorship  allow 
me  the  free  utterance  of  opinion  as  a  right,  since  the 
sultan  will  hear  nothing  of  this  my  right?  What  am  I 
seeking  for  in  this  court,  then?  I  am  seeking  for  sultanic 
right,  not  my  right ;  I  am  seeking  for — foreign  right.  As 
long  as  this  foreign  right  harmonizes  with  mine,  to  be 
sure,  I  shall  find  in  it  the  latter  too. 

*  FThis  word  has  also,  in  German,  the  meaning  of  "common 
law,"  and  will  sometimes  be  translated  "law"  in  the  following 
paragraphs.] 


THE  OWNER 


19b 


The  State  does  not  permit  pitching  into  each  other 
man  to  man;  it  opposes  the  dueL  Even  every  ordinary 
appeal  to  blows,  nothwithstanding  that  neither  of  the 
fighters  calls  the  police  to  it,  is  punished ;  except  when  it 
is  not  an  I  whacking  away  at  a  you,  but,  say,  the  head  of 
a  family  at  the  child.  The  family  is  entitled  to  this,  and 
in  its  name  the  father ;  I  as  Ego  am  not. 

The  ''Vossische  Leitung'  presents  to  us  the  ''common- 
wealth of  right.''  There  everything  is  to  be  decided  by 
the  judge  and  a  court.  It  ranks  the  supreme  court  of 
censorship  as  a  ''court"  where  "right  is  declared.''  What 
sort  of  a  right?  The  right  of  the  censorship.  To 
recognize  the  sentences  of  that  court  as  right  one  must 
regard  the  censorship  as  right.  But  it  is  thought  never- 
theless that  this  court  offers  a  protection.  Yes,  protec- 
tion against  an  individual  censor's  error :  it  protects  only 
the  censorship-legislator  against  false  interpretation  of 
his  will,  at  the  same  time  making  his  statute,  by  the 
"sacred  power  of  right,"  all  the  firmer  against  writers. 

Whether  I  am  in  the  right  or  not  there  is  no  judge  but 
myself.  Others  can  judge  only  whether  they  endorse 
my  right,  and  whether  it  exists  as  right  for  them  too. 

In  the  meantime  let  us  take  the  matter  yet  another 
way.  I  am  to  reverence  sultanic  law  in  the  sultanate, 
popular  law  in  republics,  canon  law  in  Catholic  com- 
munities, etc.  To  these  laws  I  am  to  subordinate  my- 
self ;  I  am  to  regard  them  as  sacred.  A  "sense  of  right" 
and  "law-abiding  mind"  of  such  a  sort  is  so  firmly  planted 
in  people's  head  that  the  most  revolutionary  persons  of 
our  days  want  to  subject  us  to  a  new  "sacred  law,"  the 
"law  of  society,"  the  law  of  mankind,  the  "right  of  all," 
and  the  like.  The  right  of  "all"  is  to  go  before  my  right. 
As  a  right  of  all  it  would  indeed  be  my  right  among  the 
rest,  since  I,  with  the  rest,  am  inclined  in  all;  but  that 
it  is  at  the  same  time  a  right  of  others,  or  even  of  all 
others,  does  not  move  me  to  its  upholding.  Not  as  a 
right  of  all  will  I  defend  it,  but  as  my  right ;  and  then 
every  other  may  see  to  it  how  he  shall  likewise  maintain 
it  for  himself.   The  right  of  all  (e.  g.  to  eat)  is  a  right 


196 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


of  every  individual.  Let  each  keep  this  right  unabridged 
for  himself,  then  all  exercise  it  spontaneously;  let  him 
not  take  care  for  all  though — let  him  not  grow  zealous 
for  it  as  for  a  right  of  all. 

But  the  social  reformers  preach  to  us  a  ''law  of  so- 
ciety/' There  the  individual  becomes  society's  slave, 
and  is  in  the  right  only  when  society  makes  him  out  in 
the  right,  i.  e.  when  he  lives  according  to  society's  statutes 
and  so  is — loyal.  Whether  I  am  loyal  under  a  despotism 
or  in  a  ''society"  a  la  Weitling,  it  is  the  same  absence  of 
right  in  so  far  as  in  both  cases  I  have  not  my  right  but 
foreign  right. 

In  considerations  of  right  the  question  is  always  asked, 
*'What  or  who  gives  me  the  right  to  it?"  Answer: 
God,  love,  reason,  nature,  humanity,  etc.  No,  only  your 
might,  your  power  gives  you  the  right  (your  reason 
e.  g.,  may  give  it  to  you). 

Communism,  which  assumes  that  men  ''have  equal 
rights  by  nature,"  contradicts  its  own  proposition  till  it 
comes  to  this,  that  men  have  no  right  at  all  by  nature. 
For  it  is  not  willing  to  recognize,  e,  g.,  that  parents  have 
'•by  nature"  rights  as  against  their  children,  or  the  chil- 
dren as  against  the  parents:  it  abolishes  the  family. 
Nature  gives  parents,  brothers,  etc.,  no  right  at  all. 
Altogether,  this  entire  revolutionary  or  Babouvist  prin- 
ciple* rests  on  a  religious,  i,  e,  false^,  view  of  things. 
Who  .can  ask  after  "right"  if  he  does  not  occupy  the 
religious  standpoint  himself  ?  Is  not  "right"  a  religious 
concept,  i.  e,  something  sacred?  Why,  ''equality  of 
rights''  as  the  Revolution  propounded  it,  is  only  another 
name  for  "Christian  equality,"  the  "equality  of  the  breth- 
ren," "of  God's  children,"  "of  Christians,"  etc. ;  in  short, 
fraternite.  Each  and  every  inquiry  after  right  deserves 
to  be  lashed  with  Schiller's  words: 

Many  a  year  I've  used  my  nose 
To  smell  the  onion  and  the  rose; 
Is  there  any  proof  which  shows 
 That  Fve  a  right  to  that  same  nose  ?  

*  Cf.  "Die  Kommunisten  in  der  Schweis/'  committee  report, 
p.  3. 


THE  OWNER 


197 


When  the  Revolution  stamped  equality  as  a  ''right," 
it  took  flight  into  the  religious  domain,  into  the  region 
of  the  sacred,  of  the  ideal.  Hence,  since  then,  the  fight 
for  the  "sacred,  inalienable  rights  of  man."  Against  the 
''eternal  rights  of  man"  the  ''well-earned  rights  of  the 
established  order"  are  quite  naturally,  and  with  equal 
right,  brought  to  bear:  right  against  right,  where  of 
course  one  is  decried  by  the  other  as  "wrong."  This  has 
been  the  contest  of  rights'^  since  the  Revolution. 

You  want  to  be  "in  the  right"  as  against  the  rest. 
That  you  cannot;  as  against  them  you  remain  forever 
"in  the  wrong" ;  for  they  surely  would  not  be  your  op- 
ponents if  they  were  not  in  "their  right"  too;  they  will 
always  make  you  out  "in  the  wrong."  But,  as  against 
the  right  of  the  rest,  yours  is  a  higher,  greater,  more 
powerful  right,  is  it  not?  No  such  thing!  Your  right 
is  not  more  powerful  if  you  are  not  more  powerful. 
Have  Chinese  subjects  a  right  to  freedom?  Just  bestow 
it  on  them,  and  then  look  how  far  you  have  gone  wrong 
in  your  attempt:  because  they  do  not  know  how  to  use 
freedom  they  have  no  right  to  it,  or,  in  clearer  terms, 
because  they  have  not  freedom  they  have  not  the  right 
to  it.  Children  have  no  right  to  the  condition  of  ma- 
jority because  they  are  not  of  age,  i.  e.  because  they  are 
children.  Peoples  that  let  themselves  be  kept  in  non- 
age have  no  right  to  the  condition  of  majority ;  if  they 
ceased  to  be  in  nonage,  then  only  would  they  have  the 
right  to  be  of  age.  This  means  nothing  else  than  "What 
you  have  the  power  to  be  you  have  the  right  to."  I  de- 
rive all  right  and  all  warrant  from  me;  I  am  entitled  to 
everything  that  I  have  in  my  power.  I  am  entitled  to 
overthrow  Zeus,  Jehovah,  God,  etc.,  if  I  can;  if  I  can- 
not, then  these  gods  will  always  remain  in  the  right  and 
in  power  as  against  me,  and  what  I  do  will  be  to  fear 
their  right  and  their  power  in  impotent  "god-fearing- 
ness,"  to  keep  their  commandments  and  believe  that  I 
do  right  in  everything  that  I  do  according  to  their  right, 


*  [Rechtsstreit^  a  word  which  usually  means  "lawsuit."] 


198 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


about  as  the  Russian  boundary-sentinels  think  themselves 
rightfully  entitled  to  shoot  dead  the  suspicious  persons 
who  are  escaping,  since  they  murder  ''by  superior  au- 
thority/' i.  e.  "with  right."  But  I  am  entitled  by  myself 
to  murder  if  I  myself  do  not  forbid  it  to  myself,  if  I 
myself  do  not  fear  murder  as  a  ''wrong/'  This  view 
of  things  lies  at  the  foundation  of  Ghamisso's  poem, 
^'The  Valley  of  Murder,"  where  the  gray-haired  Indian 
murderer  compels  reverence  from  the  white  man  whose 
brethren  he  has  murdered.  The  only  thing  I  am  not 
entitled  to  is  what  I  do  not  do  with  a  free  cheer,  i.  e. 
what  /  do  not  entitle  myself  to. 

/  decide  whether  it  is  the  right  thing  in  me;  there  is 
no  right  outside  me.  If  it  is  right  for  me,'^  it  is  right. 
Possibly  this  may  not  suffice  to  make  it  right  for  the 
rest ;  that  is  their  care,  not  mine :  let  them  defend  them- 
selves. And  if  for  the  whole  world  something  were  not 
right,  but  it  were  right  for  me,  i,  e,  I  wanted  it,  then  I 
would  ask  nothing  about  the  whole  world.  So  every 
one  does  who  knows  how  to  value  himself,  every  one 
in  the  degree  that  he  is  an  egoist ;  for  might  goes  before 
right,  and  that — with  perfect  right. 

Because  I  am  "by  nature"  a  man  I  have  an  equal  right 
to  the  enjoyment  of  all  goods,  says  Babeuf.  Must  he 
not  also  say :  because  I  am  "by  nature"  a  first-born 
prince  I  have  a  right  to  the  throne?  The  rights  of  man 
and  the  "well-earned  rights"  come  to  the  same  thing  in 
the  end,  to  wit,  to  nature,  which  gives  me  a  right,  i.  e. 
to  hirth  (and,  further,  inheritance,  etc.).  "I  am  born 
as  a  man"  is  equal  to  "I  am  born  as  a  king's  son."  The 
natural  man  has  only  a  natural  right  (because  he  has 
only  natural  power)  and  natural  claims:  he  has  right  of 
birth  and  claims  of  birth.  But  nature  c^innot  entitle  me, 
i.  e.  give  me  capacity  or  might,  to  that  to  which  only  my 
act  entitles  me.  That  the  king's  child  sets  Himself  above 
other  children,  even  this  is  his  act,  which  secures  to  him 
the  precedence ;  and  that  the  other  children  approve  and 


*  [A  common  German  phrase  for  "it  suits  me.**] 


THE  OWNER 


199 


recognize  this  act  is  their  act,  which  makes  them  wor- 
thy to  be — subjects. 

Whether  nature  gives  me  a  right,  or  whether  God, 
the  people's  choice,  etc.,  does  so,  all  of  that  is  the  same 
■foreign  right,  a  right  that  /  do  not  give  or  take  to  myself. 

Thus  the  Communists  say,  equal  lahor  entitles  man 
to  equal  enjoyment.  Formerly  the  question  was  raised 
whether  the  'Virtuous''  man  must  not  be  ''happy"  on 
earth.  The  Jews  actually  drew  this  inference:  ''That 
it  may  go  well  with  thee  on  earth."  No,  equal  labor  does 
not  entitle  you  to  it,  but  equal  enjoyment  alone* entitles 
you  to  equal  enjoyment.  Enjoy,  then  you  are  entitled 
to  enjoyment.  But,  if  you  have  labored  and  let  the  en- 
joyment be  taken  from  you,  then — "it  serves  you  right." 

If  you  take  the  enjoyment,  it  is  your  right;  if,  on  the 
contrary,  you  only  pine  for  it  without  laying  hands  on 
it,  it  remains  as  before,  a  "well-earned  right"  of  those 
who  are  privileged  for  enjoyment.  It  is  their  right,  as  by 
laying  hands  on  it  it  would  become  your  right. 

The  conflict  over  the  "right  of  property"  wavers  in 
vehement  commotion.  The  Communists  affirm*  that 
"the  earth  belongs  rightfully  to  him  who  tills  it,  and  its 
products  to  those  who  bring  them  out."  I  think  it  be- 
longs to  him  who  knows  how  to  take  it,  or  who  does  not 
let  it  be  taken  from  him,  does  not  let  himself  be  de- 
prived of  it.  If  he  appropriates  it,  then  not  only  the 
earth,  but  the  right  to  it  too,  belongs  to  him.  This  is 
egoistic  right'-  i.'e.,  it  is  right  for  me,  therefore  it  is  right. 

Aside  from  this,  right  does  have  "a  wax  nose."  The 
tiger  that  assails  me  is  in  the  right,  and  I  who  strike  him 
down  am  also  in  the  right.  I  defend  against  him  not 
my  right',  but  myself. 

As  human  right  is  always  something  given,  it  always 
in  reality  reduces  to  the  right  which  men  give,  i.  e.  "con- 
cede," to  each  other.  If  the  right  to  existence  is  con- 
ceded to  new-born  children,  then  they  have  the  right ; 
if  it  is  not  conceded  to  them,  as  was  the  case  among  the 


*A.  Becker,  "Volksphilosophie/'  p.  22  i 


200 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


Spartans  and  ancient  Romans,  then  they  do  not  have  it. 
For  only  society  can  give  or  concede  it  to  them;  they 
themselves  cannot  take  it,  or  give  it  to  themselves.  It 
will  be  objected,  the  children  had  nevertheless  ''by 
nature"  the  right  to  exist ;  only  the  Spartans  refused 
recognition  to  this  right.  But  then  they  simply  had  no 
right  to  this  recognition — no  more  than  they  had  to 
recognition  of  their  life -by  the  wild  beasts  to  which  they 
were  thrown. 

People  talk  so  much  about  birthright,  and  complain: 


What  sort  of  right,  then,  is  there  that  was  born  with 
me?  The  right  to  receive  an  entailed  estate,  to  inherit 
a  throne,  to  enjoy  a  princely  or  noble  education ;  or, 
again,  because  poor  parents  begot  me,  to — get  free  school- 
ing, be  clothed  out  of  contributions  of  alms,  and  at  last 
earn  my  bread  and  my  herring  in  the  coal-mines  or  at 
the  loom  ?  Are  these  not  birthrights,  rights  that  have  - 
come  down  to  me  from  my  parents  through  birth f  You 
think — no ;  you  think  these  are  only  rights  improperly  so 
called,  it  is  just  these  rights  that  .you  aim  to  abolish 
through  the  real  birthright.  To  give  a  basis  for  this  you 
go  back  to  the  simplest  thing  and  affirm  that  every  one 
is  by  birth  equal  to  another — to  wit,  a  man,  I  will  grant 
you  that  every  one  is  born  as  man,  hence  the  new-born 
are  therein  equal  to  each  other.  Why  are  they?  Only 
because  they  do  not  yet  show  and  exert  themselves  as 
anything  but  bare — children  of  men,  naked  little  human 
beings.  But  thereby  they  are  at  once  different  from 
those  who  have  already  made  something  out  of  them- 
selves, who  thus  are  no  longer  bare  "children  of  men," 
but — ^children  of  their  own  creation.  The  latter  possess 
more  than  bare  birthrights ;  they  have  earned  rights. 
What  an  antithesis,  what  a  field  of  combat!  The  old 
combat  of  birthrights  of  man  and  well-earned  rights.  Go 


There  is — alas  ! — no  mention  of  the  rights 
That  were  born  with  us.* 


*  [Meohistopheles  in  "Faust."] 


THE  OWNER 


201 


right  on  appealing  to  your  birthrights;  people  will  not 
fail  to  oppose  to  you  the  well-earned.  Both  stand  on  the 
''ground  of  right";  for  each  of  the  two  has  a  ''righf' 
against  the  other,  the  one  the  birthright  or  natural  right, 
the  other  the  earned  or  ''well-earned"  right. 

If  you  remain  on  the  ground  of  right,  you  remain  in 
— RechthatereiJ^  The  other  cannot  give  you  your  right ; 
he  cannot  "mete  out  right"  to  you.  He  who  has  might 
has — right ;  if  you  have  not  the  former,  neither  have  you 
the  latter.  Is  this- wisdom  so  hard  to  attain?  Just  look 
at  the  mighty  and  their  doings!  We  are  talking  here 
only  of  China  and  Japan,  of  course.  Just  try  it  once, 
you  Chinese  and  Japanese,  to  make  them  out  in  the 
wrong,  and  learn  by  experience  how  they  throw  you 
into  jail.  (Only  do  not  confuse  with  this  the  "well- 
meaning  counsels"  which — in  China  and  Japan — are  per- 
mitted, because  they  do  not  hinder  the  mighty  one,  but 
possibly  help  him  on.)  For  him  who  should  want  tQ 
make  them  out  in  the  wrong  there  would  stand  open  only 
one  way  thereto,  that  of  might.  If  he  deprives  them  of 
their  might,  then  he  has  really  made  them  out  in  the 
wrong,  deprived  them  of  their  right;  in  any  other  case 
he  can  do  nothing  but  clench  his  little  fist  in  his  pocket, 
or  fall  a  victim  as  an  obtrusive  fool. 

In  short,  if  you  Chinese  and  Japanese  did  not  ask 
after  right,  and  in  particular  if  you  .did  not  ask  aftei 
the  rights  "that  were  born  with  you,"  then  you  would 
not  need  to  ask  at  all  after  the  well-earned  rights  either. 

You  start  back  in  fright  before  others,  because  you 
think  you  see  beside  them  the  ghost  of  right,  which,  as 
in  the  Homeric  combats,  seems  to  fight  as  a  goddess  at 
their  side,  helping  them.  What  do  you  do?  Do  you 
throw  the  spear?  No,  you  creep,  around  to  gain  the 
spook  over  to  yourselves,  that  it  may  fight  on  your  side ; 

*  "I  beg  you,  spare  my  lungs !  He  who  insists  on  proving  him- 
^  ij  if  he  but  has  one  of  these  things  called  tongues,  can 

hold  his  own  in  all  the  world's  despite!"  [Faust's  words  to 
Mephistopheles,  slightly  misquoted.--For  Rechthaberei  see  note 
on  p.  185.] 


202 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


you  woo  for  the  ghost's  .favor.  Another  would  simply 
ask  thus;  Do  I  will  what  my  opponent  wills?  ''No!" 
Now  then,  there  may  fight  for  him  a  thousand  devils  or 
gods,  I  go  at  him  all  the  same ! 

The  "commonwealth  of  right,''  as  the  ''Vossische  Zeit- 
ung' among  others  stands  for  it,  asks  that  office-holders 
be  removable  only  by  the  judge,  not  by  the  administra- 
tion. Vain  illusion!  If  it  were  settled  by  law  that  an 
office-holder  who  is  once  seen  drunken  shall  lose  his 
office,  then  the  judges  would  have  to  condemn  him  on  the 
word  of  the  witnesses,  etc.  In  short,  the  lawgiver  would 
only  have  to  state  precisely  all  the  possible  grounds  which 
entail  the  loss  of  office,  however  laughable  they  might  be 
(e.  g.  he  who  laughs  in  his  superiors'  faces,  who  does 
not  go  to  church  every  Sunday,  who  does  not  take  the 
communion  every  four  weeks,  who  runs  in  debt,  who 
has  disreputable  associates,  who  shows  no  determina- 
tion, etc.,  shall  be  removed.  These  things  the  lawgiver 
might  take  it  into  his  head  to  prescribe,  e.  g.,  for  a  court 
of  honor)  ;  then  the  judge  would  solely  have  to  investi- 
gate whether  the  accused  had  ''become  guilty"  of  those 
"offences,"  and,  on  presentation  of  the  proof,  pronounce 
sentence  of  removal  against  him  "in  the'name  of  the  law." 

The  judge  is  lost  when  he  ceases  to  be  mechanical, 
when  he  "is  forsaken  by  the  rules  of  evidence."  Then 
he  no  longer  has  anything  but  an  opinion  like  everybody 
else;  and,  if  he  decides  acccording  to  this  opinion,  his 
action  is  no  longer  an  official  action.  As  judge  he  must 
decide  only  acccording  to  the  law.  Commend  me  rather 
to  the  old  French  parliaments,  which  wanted  to  examine 
for  themselves  what  was  to  be  matter  of  right,  and 'to 
register  it  only  after  their  own  approval.  They  at  least 
judgfed  according  to  a  right  of  their  own,  and  were  not 
willing  to  give  themselves  up  to  be  machines  of  the  law- 
giver, although  as  judges  they  must,  to  be  sure,  become 
their  own  machines. 

It  is  said  that  punishment  is  the  criminars  right.  But 
impunity  is  just  as  much  his  right.  If  his  undertaking 
succeeds,  it  serves  him  right,  and,  if  it  does  not  succeed. 


THE  OWNER 


203 


it  likewise  serves  him  right.  You  make  your  bed  and 
lie  in  it.  If  some  one  goes  foolhardily  into  dangers  and 
perishes  in  them,  we  are  apt  to  say.  ''It  serves  him  right; 
he  would  have  it  so.''  But,  if  he  conquered  the  dangers, 
i.  e.  if  his  might  was  victorious,  then  he  would  be  in  the 
right  too.  If  a  child  plays  with  the  knife  and  gets  cut, 
it  is  served  right;  but,  if  it  doesn't  get  cut,  it  is  served 
right  too.  Hence  right  befalls  the  criminal,  doubtless, 
when  he  sufifers  what  he  risked ;  why,  what  did  he  risk  it 
for,  since  he  knew  the  possible  consequences?  But  the 
punishment  that  we  degree  against  him  is  only  our  right, 
not  his.  Our  right  reacts  against  his,  and  he  is  "in  the 
wrong  at  last"  because — we  get  the  upper  hand. 

But  what  is  right,  what  is  matter  of  right  in  a  society, 
is  voiced  too — in  the  law. 

Whatever  the  law  may  be,  it  must  be  respected  by  the 
— loyal  citizen.  Thus  the  law-abiding  mind  of  Old  Eng- 
land is  eulogized.  To  this  that  Euripidean  sentiment 
(Orestes,  418)  entirely  corresponds:  ''We  serve  the  gods, 
whatever  the  gods  are."  Law  as  such,  God  as  such,  thus 
far  we  are  to-day. 

People  are  at  pains  to  distinguish  lazv  from  arbitrary 
orders,  from  an  ordinance:  the  former  comes  from  a 
duly  entitled  authority.  But  a  law  over  human  action 
(ethical  law,  State  law,  etc.)  is  always  3,  declaration  of 
will,  and  so  an  order.  Yes,  even  if  I  myself  gave  myself 
the  law,  it  would  yet  be  only  my  order,  to  which  in  the 
next  moment  I  can  refuse  obedience.  One  may  well 
enough  declare  what  he  will  put  up  with,  and  so  depre- 
cate the  opposite  by  a  law,  making  known  that  in  the 
contrary  case  he  will  treat  the  transgressor  as  his  enemy ; 
but  no  one  has  any  business  to  command  my  actions,  to 
say  what  course  I  shall  pursue  and  set  up  a  code  to  gov- 
ern it.  I  must  put  up  with  it  that  he  treats  me  as  his 
enemy ^  but  never  that  he  makes  free  with  me  as  his 


*  [Gesetz,  statute;  no  longer  the  same  German  word  as 
"right."] 


204 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


creature,  and  that  he  makes  his  reason,  or  even  unreason, 
my  plumb-Hne. 

States  last  only  so  long  as  there  is  a  ruling  will  and 
this  ruling  will  is  looked  upon  as  tantamount  to  the 
own  will.  The  lord^s  will  is — law.  What  do  your  laws 
amount  to  if  no  one  obeys  them?  what  your  orders,  if 
nobody  lets  himself  be  ordered?  The  State  cannot  for- 
bear the  claim  to  determine  the  individuaFs  will,  to  spec- 
ulate and  count  on  this.  For  the  State  it  is  indispensable 
that  nobody  have  an  own  will;  if  one  had,  the  State 
would  have  to  exclude  (lock  up,  banish,  etc.)  this  one; 
if  all  had,  they  would  do  away  with  the  State.  The  State 
is  not  thinkable  without  lordship  and  servitude  (subjec- 
tion) ;  for  the  State  must  will  to  be  the  lord  of  all  that 
it  embraces,  and  this  will  is  called  the  "will  of  the  State." 

He  who,  to  hold  his  own,  must  count  on  the  absence 
of  will  in  others  is  a  thing  made  by  these  others,  as  the 
master  is  a  thing  made  by  the  servant.  If  submissiveness 
ceased,  it  would  be  all  over  with  lordship. 

The  ozun  will  of  Me  is  the  State's  destroyer;  it  is  there- 
fore branded  by  the  State  as  ''self-will."  Own  will  and 
the  State  are  powers  in  deadly  hostility,  between  which 
no  ''eternal  peace"  is  possible.  As  long  as  the  State  asserts 
itself,  it  represents  own  will,  its  ever-hostile  opponent  as 
unreasonable,  evil,  etc. ;  and  the  latter  lets  itself  be  talked 
into  believing  this — nay,  it  really  is  such,  for  no  more 
leason  than  this,  that  it  still  lets  itself  be  talked  into  such 
belief :  it  has  not  yet  come  to  itself  and  to  the  conscious- 
ness of  its  dignity ;  hence  it  is  still  incomplete,  still  amen- 
able to  fine  words,  etc. 

Every  State  is  a  despotism,  be  the  despot  one  or  many, 
or  (as  one  is  likely  to  imagine  about  a  republic)  if  all 
be  lords,  i.  e.  despotize  one  over  another.  For  this  is  the 
case  when  the  law  given  at  any  time,  the  expressed  voli- 
tion of  (it  may  be)  a  popular  assembly,  is  thenceforth  to 
be  law  for  the  individual,  to  which  obedience  is  due  from 
him,  or  toward  which  he  has  the  duty  of  obedience.  If 
one  were  even  to  conceive  the  case  that  every  individual 
in  the  people  had  expressed  the  same  will,  and  hereby  a 
complete  "collective  will"  had  come  into  being,  the  matter 


THE  OWNER 


205 


would  still  remain  the  same.  Would  I  not  be  bound  to-day 
and  henceforth  to  my  will  of  yesterday?  My  will  would 
in  this  case  be  frozen.  Wretched  stability!  My  creature 
• — to  wit,  a  particular  expression  of  will — would  have 
become  my  commander.  But  I  in  my  will,  I  the  creator, 
should  be  hindered  in  my  flow  and  my  dissolution. 
Because  I  was  a  fool  yesterday  I  must  remain  such  my 
life  long.  So  in  the  State-life  I  am  at  best — I  might  just " 
as  well  say,  at  worst — a  bondman  of  myself.  Because  I  , 
was  a  wilier  yesterday,  I  am  to-day  without  will :  yester- 
day voluntary,  to-day  involuntary. 

How  change  it.  Only  by  recognizing  no  duty,  i.  e. 
not  binding  myself  nor  letting  myself  be  bound.  If  I  have 
no  duty,  then  I  know  no  law  either. 

"But  they  will  bind  me!"    My  will  nobody  can  bind, 
and  my  disclination  remains  free. 

''Why,  everything  must  go  topsy-turvy  if  every  one 
could  do  what  he  would!''  Well,  who  says  that  every 
one  can  do  everything?  What  are  you  there  for,  pray, 
you  who  do  not  need  to  put  up  with  everything?  Defend 
yourself,  and  no  one  will  do  anything  to  you !  He  who 
would  break  your  will  has  to  do  with  you,  and  is  your  ene- 
my. Deal  with  him  as  such.  If  there  stand  behind  you  for 
your  protection  some  millions  more,  then  you  are  an 
imposing  power  and  will  have  an  easy  victory.  But,  even 
if  as  a  power  you  overawe  your  opponent,  still  you  are 
not  on  that  account  a  hallowed  authority  to  him,  unless 
he  be  a  simpleton.  He  does  not  owe  you  respect  and 
regard,  even  though  he  will  have  to  consider  your  might. 

We  are  accustomed  to  classify  States  according  to  the 
different  ways  in  which  ''the  supreme  might'"  is  distri- 
buted. If  an  individual  has  it — monarchy;  if  all  have 
it — democracy :  etc.  Supreme  might  then !  Might  against 
whom?  Against  the  individual  and  his  "self-will."  The 
State  practises  "violence/'  the  individual  must  not  do  so. 
The  State's  behavior  is  violence,- and  it  calls  its  violence; 
"law";  that  of  the  individual,  "crime.'*    Crime,*  then~-| 


*  [Verbrechen] 


206 


THE  EGOi  AND  HIS  OWN 


so  the  individual's  violence  is  called ;  and  only  by  crime 
does  he  overcome*  the  State's  •  violence  when  he  thinks 
that  the  State  is  not  above  him,  but  he  above  the  State. 

Now,  if  I  wanted  to  act  ridiculously,  I  might,  as  a 
well-meaning  person,  admonish  you  not  to  make  law^? 
which  impair  my  self-development,  self-activity,  self- 
creation.  I  do  not  give  this  advice.  For,  if  you  should 
follow  it,  you  would  be  unwise,  and  I  should  have  been 
cheated  of  my  entire  profit.  I  request  nothing  at  all  from 
you;  for,  whatever  I  might  demand,  you  would  still  be 
dictatorial  lawgivers,  and  must  be  so,  because  a  raven 
cannot  sing,  nor  a  robber  live  without  robbery.  Rather 
do  I  ask  those  who  would  be  egoists  what  they  think  the 
more  egoistic — ^to  let  laws  be  given  them  by  you,  and  to 
respect  those  that  are  given,  or  to  practise  refractoriness, 
yes,  complete  disobedience.  Good-hearted  people  think 
the  laws  ought  to  prescribe  only  what  is  accepted  in  the 
people's  feeling  as  right  and  proper.  But  what  concern 
is  it  of  mine  what  is  accepted  in  the  nation  and  by  the 
nation  ?  The  nation  will  perhaps  be  against  the  blasphem- 
er; therefore  a  law  against  blasphemy.  Am  I  not  to 
blaspheme  on  that  account  ?  Is  this  law  to  be  more  than 
an  "order"  to  me  ?  I  put  the  question. 

Solely  from  the  principle  that  all  right  and  all  authority 
belong  to  the  collectivity  of  the  people  do  all  forms  of 
government  arise.  For  none  of  them  lacks  this  appeal  to 
the  collectivity,  and  the  despot,  as  well  as  the  president 
or  any  aristocracy,  etc.,  acts  and  commands  "in  the  name 
of  the  State."  They  are  in  possession  of  the  "authority 
of  the  State,"  and  it  is  perfectly  indifferent  whether,  were 
this  possible,  the  people  as  a  collectivity  (all  individuals) 
exercise  this  Stste-aiithority,  or  whether  it  is  only  the 
representatives  of  this  collectivity,  be  there  many  of  them 
as  in  aristocracies  or  one  as  in  monarchies.  Always  the 
collectivity  is  above  the  individual,  and  has  a  power  which 
is  called  legitimate^  i.  e.  which  is  law. 

Over  against  the  sacredness  of  the  State,  the  individ- 


*  [brechen] 


THE  0\¥NER 


207 


ual  is  only  a  vessel  of  dishonor,  in  which  "exuberance, 
malevolence,  mania  for  ridicule  and  slander,  frivolity,'' 
etc.,  are  left  as  soon  as  he  does  not  deem  that  object  of 
veneration,  the  State,  to  be  worthy  of  recognition.  The 
spiritual  haughtiness  of  the  servants  and  subjects  of  the 
State  has  fine  penalties  against  unspiritual  "exuberance." 

When  the  government  designates  as  punishable  all 
play  of  mind  against  the  State,  the  moderate  liberals'  come 
and  opine  that  fun,  satire,  wit,  humor,  etc.,  must  have 
free  play  anyhow  and  genius  must  enjoy  freedom.  So 
not  the  individual  man  indeed,  but  still  genius,  is  to  be 
free.  Here  the  State,  or  in  its  name  the  government,  says 
with  perfect  right:  He  who  is  not  for  me  is  against  me. 
Fun,  wit,  etc. — in  short,  the  turning  of  State  affairs  into 
a  comedy — have  undermined  States  from  of  old :  they  are 
not  "innocent."  And,  further,  what  boundaries  are  to 
be  drawn  between  guilty  and  innocent  wit,  etc?  At  this 
question  the  moderate  fall  into  great  perplexity,  and 
everything  reduces  itself  to  the  prayer  that  the  State  (gov- 
ernment) would  please  not  be  so  sensitive,  so  ticklish;  that 
it  would  not  immediately  scent  malevolence  in  "harm- 
less" things,  and  would  in  general  be  a  little  "more  toler- 
ant." Exaggerated  sensitiveness  is  certainly  a  weakness, 
its  avoidance  may  be  a  praiseworthy  virtue ;  but  in  time 
of  war  one  cannot  be  sparing,  and  what  may  be  allowed 
under  peaceable  circumstances  cease  to  be  permitted 
as  soon  as  a  state  of  siege  is  declared.  Because  the  well- 
meaning  liberals  feel  this  plainly,  they  hasten  to  declare 
that,  considering  "the  devotion  of  the  people,"  there  is 
assuredly  no  danger  to  be  feared.  But  the  government 
will  be  wiser,  and  not  let  itself  be  talked  into  believing 
anything  of  that  sort.  It  knows  too  well  how  people  stuff 
one  with  fine  words,  and  will  not  let  itself  be  satisfied  with 
this  Barmecide  dish. 

But  they  are  bound  to  have  their  play-ground,  for  they 
are  children,  you  know,  and  cannot  be  so  staid  as  old 
folks ;  boys  will  be  boys. 

Only  for  this  play-ground,  only  for  a  few  hours  of 
jolly  running  about,  they  bargain.    They  ask  only  that 


208 


THE  EGO  AND  HI'S  OWN 


the  State  should  not,  like  a  splenetic  papa,  be  too  cross. 
It  should  permit  some  Processions  of  the  Ass  and  plays 
of  fools,  as  the  church  allowed  them  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
But  the  times  when  it  could  grant  this  without  danger  are 
past.  Children  that  now  once  come  into  the  open,  and  live 
through  an  hour  without  the  rod  of  discipline,  are  no 
longer  willing  to  go  into  the  cell.  For  the  open  is  no 
longer  a  supplement  to  the  cell,  no  longer  a  refreshing 
recreation,  but  its  opposite,  an  aut — aiit.  In  short,  the 
State  must  either  no  longer  put  up  with  anything,  or  put 
up  with  everything  and  perish ;  it  must  be  either  sensitive 
through  and  through,  or,  like  a  dead  man,  insensitive. 
Tolerance  is  done  with.  If  the  State  but  gives  a  finger, 
they  take  the  whole  hand  at  once.  There  can  be  no 
more  ^'jesting,''  and  all  jest,  such  as  fun,  wit,  humor,  etc., 
becomes  bitter  earnest. 

The  clamor  of  the  Liberals  for  freedom  of  the  press 
runs  counter  to  their  own  principle,  their  proper  will. 
They  will  what  they  do  not  will,  i.  e.  they  wish,  they 
would  like.  Hence  it  is  too  that  they  fall  away  so  easily 
when  once  so-called  freedom  of  the  press  appears ;  then 
they  would  like  censorship.  Quite  naturally.  The  State 
is  sacred  even  to  them ;  likewise  morals,  etc.  They  behave 
toward  it  only  as  ill-bred  brats,  as  tricky  children  who 
seek  to  utilize  the  weaknesses  of  their  parents.  Papa  State 
is  to  permit  them  to  say  many  things  that  do  not  please 
him,  but  papa  has  the  right,  by  a  stern  look,  to  blue-pencil 
their  impertinent  gabble.  If  they  recognize  in  him  their 
papa,  they  must  in  his  presence  put  up  with  the  censorship 
of  speech,  like  every  child. 


If  you  let  yourself  be  made  out  in  the  right  by  another, 
you  must  no  less  let  yourself  be  made  out  in  the  wrong 
by  him ;  if  justification  and  reward  come  to  you  from  him, 
Expect  also  his  arraignment  and  punishment.  Alongside 
right  goes  wrong,  alongside  legality  crime.  What  are 
yoM? — Yon  are  a — criminal  \ 

"The  criminal  is  in  the  utmost  degree  the  State's  own 


THE  OWNER 


209 


crime!''  says  Bettina.  One  may  let  this  sentiment  pass, 
even  if  Bettina  herself  does  not  understand  it  exactly 
so.  For  in  the  State  the  unbridled  I — I,  as  I  belong  to 
rnyself  alone — cannot  come  to  my  fulfilment  and  realiza- 
tion. Every  ego  is  from  birth  a  criminal  to  begin  with 
against  the  people,  the  State.  Hence  it  is  that  it  does 
leally  keep  watch  over  all;  it  sees  in  each  one  an — egoist, 
and  it  is  afraid  of  the  egoist.  It  presumes  the  worst 
about  each  one,  and  takes  care,  police-care,  that  ''no  harm 
happens  to  the  State,''  ne  quid  respublica  detrimenti 
capiat.  The  unbridled  ego — and  this  we  originally  are, 
and  in  our  secret  inward  parts  we  remain  so  always 
— is  the  never-ceasing  criminal  in  the  State.  The  man 
whom  his  boldness,  his  will,  his  inconsiderateness  and 
fearlessness  lead  is  surrounded  with  spies  by  the  State, 
by  the  people.  I  say,  by  the  people!  The  people  (think 
it  something  wonderful,  you  good-hearted  folks,  what 
you  have  in  the  people) — ^the  people  is  full  of  police  senti- 
ments through  and  through.— Only  he  who  renoimces  his 
ego,  who  practises  ''self-renunciation,"  is  acceptable  to 
the  people. 

In  the  book  cited  Bettina  is  throughout  good-natured 
enough  to  regard  the  State  as  only  sick,  and  to  hope  for 
its  recovery,  a  recovery  which  she  would  bring  about 
through  the  "demagogues"  ;t  but  it  is  not  sick ;  rather 
is  it  in  its  full  strength,  when  it  puts  from  it  the  demago- 
gues who  want  to  acquire  something  for  the  individuals, 
for  "all."  In  its  believers  it  is  provided  with  the  best 
demagogues  (leaders  of  the  people).  According  to 
Bettina,  the  State  is  to  J  "develop  mankind's  germ  of  free- 
dom ;  otherwise  it  is  a  raven-mother§  and  caring  for 
raven-fodder!"  It  cannot  do  otherwise,  for  in  its  very 
caring  for  "mankind"  (which,  besides,  would  have  to  be 
the  "humane"  of  "free"  State  to  begin  with)  the  "indi- 
vidual"  is  raven-fodder  for  it.  How  rightly  speaks  the 
burgomaster,  on  the  other  handiH    "What?  the  State 


*  "This  Book  Belongs  to  the  King,"  p.  376. 
t  P.  374.  §  [An  unnatural  mother] 


tP.  376. 
IFF.  381 


210 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


has  no  other  duty  than  to  be  merely  the  attendant  of  incur- 
able invalids  ? — That  isn't  to  the  point.  From  of  old  the 
healthy  State  has  relieved  itself  of  the  diseased  matter, 
and  not  mixed  itself  with  it.  It  does  not  need  to  be  so 
economical  with  its  juices.  Cut  off  the  robber-branches 
without  hesitation,  that  the  others  may  bloom.  Do  not 
shiver  at  the  State's  harshness ;  its  morality,  its  policy  and 
religion,  point  it  to  that.  Accuse  it  of  no  want  of  feeling ; 
its  sympathy  revolts  against  this,  but  its  experience  finds 
safety  only  in  this  severity !  There  are  diseases  in  which 
only  drastic  remedies  will  help.  The  physician  who  recog- 
nizes the  disease  as  such,  but  timidly  turns  to  palliatives, 
will  never  remove  the  disease,  but  may  well  cause  the 
patient  to  succumb  after  a  shorter  or  longer  sickness!" 
Frau  Rat's  question,  'Tf  you  apply  death  as  a  drastic 
remedy,  how  is  the  cure  to  be  wrought  then  ?"  isn't  to  the 
point.  Why,  the  State  does  not  apply  death  against  itself, 
but  against  an  offensive  member ;  it  tears  out  an  eye  that 
offends  it,  etc. 

"For  the  invalid  State  the  only  way  of  salvation  is 
to  make  man  flourish  in  it."*  If  one  here,  like  Bettina, 
understands  by  man  the  concept  ''Man,"  she  is  right ;  the 
''invalid"  State  will  recover  by  the  flourishing  of  "Man," 
for,  the  more  infatuated  the  individuals  are  with  "Man." 
the  better  it  serves  the  State's  turn.  But,  if  one  referred 
it  to  the  individuals,  to  "all"  (and  the  authoress  half  does 
this  too,  because  about  "Man"  she  is  still  involved  in 
vagueness),  then  it  would  sound  somewhat  like  the  fol- 
lowing :  For  an  invalid  band  of  robbers  the  only  way  of 
salvation  is  to  make  the  loyal  citizen  flourish  in  it !  Why, 
thereby  the  band  of  robbers  would"  simply  go  to  ruin  as 
a  band  of  robbers ;  and,  because  it  perceives  this,  it  pre- 
fers to  shoot  every  one  who  has  a  leaning  toward  becom- 
ing a  "steady  man." 

In  this  book  Bettina  is  a  patriot,  or,  what  is  little  more, 
a  philanthropist,  a  worker  for  human  happiness.  She 
is  discontented  with  the  existing  order  In  quite  the  same 


*  P.  385. 


THE  OWNER 


211 


way  as  is  the  title-ghost  of  her  book,  along  with  all  who 
would  like  to  bring  back  the  good  old  faith  and  what  goes 
with  it.  Only  she  thinks,  contrariwise,  that  the  politic- 
ians, place-holders,  and  diplomats  ruined  the  State,  while 
those  lay  it  at  the  door  of  the  malevolent,  the  "seducers 
of  the  people." 

What  is  the  ordinary  criminal  but  one  who  has  com- 
mitted the  fatal  mistake  of  endeavoring  after  what  is  the 
people's  instead  of  seeking  for  what  is  his  ?  He  has  sought 
despicable  alien  goods,  has  done  what  believers  do  who 
seek  after  what  is  God's.  What  does  the  priest  who 
admonishes  the  criminal  do?  He  sets  before  him  the 
great  wrong  of  having  desecrated  by  his  act  what  was 
hallowed  by  the  State,  its  property  (in  which,  of  course, 
must  be  included  even  the  life  of  those  who  belong  to  the 
State)  ;  instead  of  this  he  might  rather  hold  up  to  him 
the  fact  that  he  has  befouled  himself  in  not  despising  the 
alien  thing,  but  thinking  it  worth  stealing;  he  could,  if 
he  were  not  a  parson.  Talk  with  the  so-called  criminal 
as  with  an  egoist,  and  he  will  be  ashamed,  not  that  he 
transgressed  against  your  laws  and  goods,  but  that  he  con- 
sidered your  laws  worth  evading,  your  goods  worth 
desiring ;  he  will  be  ashamed  that  he  did  not — despise  you 
and  yours  together,  that  he  was  too  little  an  egoist.  But 
you  cannot  talk  egoistically  with  him,  or  you  are  not  so 
great  as  a  criminal,  you — commit  no  crime !  You  do  not 
know  that  an  ego  who  is  his  own  cannot  desist  from  being 
a  criminal,  that  crime  is  his  life.  And  yet  you  should 
know  it,  since  you  believe  that  'Sve  are  all  miserable  sin- 
ners" ;  but  you  think  surreptitiously  to  get  beyond  sin, 
you  do  not  comprehend — for  you  are  devil-fearing — that 
guilt  is  the  value  of  a  man.  Oh,  if  you  were  guilty !  But 
now  you  are  "righteous."  *  Well — just  put  every  thing 
nicelv  to  rights  f  for  your  master! 

When  the  Christian  consciousness,  or  the  Christian 
man,  draws  up  a  criminal  code,  what  can  the  concept  of 
crime  be  there  but  simply— heartlessnessf   Each  severing 


*  [Gerechte] 


t  [macht  Alles  huehsch  gerecht] 


212 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


and  wounding  of  a  heart  relation,  each  heartless  behavior 
toward  a  sacred  being,  is  crime.  The  more  heartfelt  the 
relation  is  supposed  to  be,  the  more  scandalous  is  the 
deriding  of  it,  and  the  more  worthy  of  punishment  the 
crime.  Every  one  who  is  subject  to  the  lord  should  love 
him ;  to  deny  this  love  is  a  high  treason  worthy  of  death. 
Adultery  is  a  heartlessness  worthy  of  punishment;  one 
has  no  heart,  no  enthusiasm,  no  pathetic  feeling  for  the 
sacredness  of  marriage.  So  long' as  the  heart  or  soul 
dictates  laws,  only  the  heartful  or  soulful  man  enjoys  the 
protection  of  the  laws.  That  the  man  of  souls  makes  laws 
means  properly  only  that  the  moral  man  makes  them: 
what  contradicts  these  men's  ''moral  feelings,"  this  they 
penalize.  How,  e.  g.,  should  disloyalty,  secession,  breach 
of  oaths — in  short,  all  radical  breaking  off,  all  tearing 
asunder  of  venerable  ties — not  be  flagitious  and  criminal 
in  their  eyes  ?  He  who  breaks  with  these  demands  of  the 
soul  has  for  enemies  all  the  moral,  all  the  men  of  soul. 
Only  Krummacher  and  his  mates  are  the  right  people 
to  set  up  consistently  a  penal  code  of  the  heart,  as  a 
certain  bill  sufficiently  proves.  The  consistent  legislation 
of  the  Christian  State  must  be  placed  wholly  in  the  hands 
of  the — parsons,  and  will  not  become  pure  and  coherent 
so  long  as  it  is  worked  out  only  by— the  parson-ridden, 
who  are  always  only  half-parsons.  Only  then  will  every 
lack  of  soulfulness,  every  heartlessness,  be  certified  as  an 
unpardonable  crime,  only  then  will  every  agitation  of  the 
soul  become  condemnable,  every  objection  of  criticism 
and  doubt  be  anathematized;  only  then  is  the  own  man 
before  the  Christian  consciousness,  a  convicted — criminal 
to  begin  with. 

The  men  of  the  Revolution  often  talked  of  the  people's 
"just  revenge"  as  its  ''right."  Revenge  and  right  coincide 
here.  Is  this  an  attitude  of  an  ego  to  an  ego?  The 
people  cries  that  the  opposite  party  has  committed 
"crimes"  against  it.  Can  I  assume  that  one  commits  a 
crime  against  me,  without  assuming  that  he  has  to  act 
as  I  see  fit?  And  this  action  I  call  the  right,  the  good,  etc. ; 
the  divergent  action,  a  crime.    So  I  think  that  the  others 


THE  OWNER 


213 


must  aim  at  the  same  goal  with  me ;  i.  e,,  I  do  not  treat 
them  as  unique  beings  *  who  bear  their  law  in  themselves 
and  live  according  to  it,  but  as  beings  who  are  to  obey  some 
''rational"  law.  I  set  up  what  ''Man"  is  and  what  acting 
in  a  "truly  human"  way  is,  and  I  demand  of  every  one 
that  this  law  become  norm  and  ideal  to  him ;  otherwise  he 
will  expose  himself  as  a  "sinner  and  criminal."  But  upon 
the  ''guilty"  falls  the  "penalty  of  the  law"! 

One  sees  here  how  it  is  "Man"  again  who  sets  on  foot 
even  the  concept  of  crime,  of  sin,  and  therewith  that  of 
right.  A  man  in  whom  I  do  not  recognize  "Man"  is  "a 
rsinner,  a  guilty  one." 

Only  against  a  sacred  thing  are  there  criminals;  you 
against  me  can  never  be  a  criminal,  but  only  an  opponent. 
But  not  to  hate  him  who  injures  a  sacred  thing  is  in  itself 
a  crime,  as  St.  Just  cries  out  against  Danton:  "Are  you 
not  a  crirqinal  and  responsible  for  not  having  hated  the 
enemies  of  the  fatherland?" — 

If,  as  in  the  Revolution,  what  "Man"  is  is  apprehended 
as  "good  citizen,"  then  from  this  concept  of  "Man"  we 
nave  the  well-known  "political  offences  and  crimes." 

In  all  this  the  individual,  the  individual  man,  is  regarded 
as  refuse,  and  on  the  other  hand  the  general  man,  "Man," 
is  honored.  Now,  according  to  how  this  ghost  is  named — 
as  Christian,  Jew,  Mussulman,  good  citizen,  loyal  subject, 
i  freeman,  patriot,  etc. — just  so  do  those  who  would  like  to 
carry  through  a  divergent  concept  of  man,  as  well  as  those 
who  want  to  put  themselves  through,  fall  before  victori- 
ous "Man." 

And  with  what  unction  the  butchery  goes  on  here  in 
the  name  of  the  law,  of  the  sovereign  people,  of  God, 
etc. ! 

Now,  if  the  persecuted  trickily  conceal  and  protect 
themselves  from  the  stern  parsonical  judges,  people  stig- 
matize them  as  "hypocrites,"  as  St.  Just,  e.  g.,  does  those 
whom  he  accuses  in  the  speech  against  Danton.f  One 
is  to  be  a  fool,  and  deliver  himself  up  to  their  Moloch. 


*  [Einzige'] 


t  See  "Political  Speeches."  10,  p.  153 


214 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


Crimes  spring  from  fixed  ideas.  The  sacredness  of 
marriage  is  a  fixed  idea.  From  the  sacredness  it  follows 
that  infidelity  is  a  crime,  and  therefore  a  certain  marriage 
law  imposes  upon  it  a  shorter  or  longer  penalty.  But  by 
those  who  proclaim  ''freedom  as  sacred''  this  penalty  must  i 
be  regarded  as  a  crime  against  freedom,  and  only  in  this 
sense  has  public  opinion  in  fact  branded  the  marriage  law.  ' 

Society  would  have  every  one  come  to  his  right  indeed,  I 
but  yet  only  to  that  which  is  sanctioned  by  society,  to  the  i 
society-right,  not  really  to  his  right.    But  /  give  or  take  ! 
to  myself  the  right  out  of  my  own  plenitude  of  power,  ; 
and  against  every  superior  power  I  am  the  rnost  impeni- 
tent criminal.  Owner  and  creator  of  my  right,  I  recognize 
no  other  source  of  right  than — me,  neither  God  nor  the  j 
State  nor  nature  nor  even  man  himself  with  his  "eternal 
rights  of  man,"  neither  divine  nor  human  right. 

Right  ''in  and  for  itself."    Without  relation  to  me,  p 
therefore !   "Absolute  right."    Separated  from  me,  there-  ^ 
fore  !   A  thing  that  exists  in  and  for  itself !   An  absolute !  I 
An  eternal  right,  like  an  eternal  truth ! 

According  to  the  liberal  way  of  thinking,  right  is  to  be 
obligatory  for  me  because  it  is  thus  established  by  human  \ 
reason,  against  which  my  reason  is  "unreason."  Formerly  \  , 
people  inveighed  in  the  name  of  divine  reason  against 
weak  human  reason;  now,  in  the  name  of  strong  human 
reason,   against  egoistic  reason,  which  is  rejected  as 
"unreason."    And  yet  none  is  real  but  this  very  "unrea- 1 
son."    Neither  divine  nor  human  reason,  but  only  your 
and  my  reason  existing  at  any  given  time,  is  real,  as  and  i 
because  you  and  I  are  real. 

The  thought  of  right  is  originally  my  thought;  or,  iti  ' 
has  its  origin  in  me.  But,  when  it  has  sprung  from  me,  ' 
when  the  "Word"  is  out,  then  it  has  "become  flesh,"  it  is 
I  a  fixed  idea.  Now  I  no  longer  get  rid  of  the  thought ;  ' 
'  however  I  turn,  it  stands  before  me.  Thus  men  have  not  ' 
become  masters  again  of  the  thought  "right,"  which  they  ' 
themselves  created;  their  creature  is  running  away  with 
them.  This  is  absolute  right,  that  which  is  absolved  or  ; 
unfastened  from  me.   We,  revering  It  as  absolute,  cannol 


THE  OWNER 


215 


devour  it  again,  and  it  takes  from  us  the  creative  power ; 
the  creature  is  more  than  the  creator,  it  is  ''in  and  for 
itself." 

Once  you  no  longer  let  right  run  around  free,  once 
you  draw  it  back  into  its  origin,  into  you,  it  is  your  right ; 
and  that  is  right  which  suits  you. 

Right  has  had  to  suffer  an  attack  within  itself,  i.  e, 
from  the  standpoint  of  right ;  war  being  declared  on  the 
part  of  liberalism  against  ''privilege/'  * 

Privileged  and  endowed  with  equal  rights — on  these 
two  concepts  turns  a  stubborn  fight.  Excluded  or  admit- 
ted— would  mean  the  same.  But  where  should  there  be 
a  power — be  it  an  imaginary  one  like  God,  law,  or  a  real 
one  like  I,  you — of  which  it  should  not  be  true  that  before 
it  all  are  "endowed  with  equal  rights,''  i.  e.  no  respect  of 
persons  hold?  Every  one  is  equally  dear  to  God  if  he 
adores  him,  equally  agreeable  to  the  law  if  only  he  is  a 
law-abiding  person;  whether  the  lover  of  God  and  the 
law  is  humpbacked  and  lame,  whether  poor  or  rich,  and 
the  like,  that  amounts  to  nothing  for  God  and  the  law ; 
just  so,  when  you  are  at  the  point  of  drowning,  you  like  a 
negro  as  rescuer  as  well  as  the  most  excellent  Caucasian — 
yes,  in  this  situation  you  esteem  a  dog  not  less  than  a 
man.  But  to  whom  will  not  every  one  be  also,  contrari- 
wise, a  preferred  or  disregarded  person?  God  punishes 
the  wicked  with  his  wrath,  the  law  chastises  the  lawless, 
you  let  one  visit  you  every  moment  and  show  the  other 
the  door. 

The  "equality  of  right''  is  a  phantom  just  because  right 
is  nothing  more  and  nothing  less  than  admission,  i.  e.  a 
matter  of  grace,  which,  be  it  said,  one  may  also  acquire  by 
his  desert;  for  desert  and  grace  are  not  contradictory, 
since  even  grace  wishes  to  be  "deserved"  and  our  gracious 
smile  falls  only  to  him  who  knows  how  to  force  it  from 
us. 

So  people  dream  of  "all  citizens  of  the  State  having  to 
stand  side  by  side,  with  equal  rights."  All  citizens  of  the 

*  [Literally,  "precedent  right."] 


216 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


State  they  are  certainly  all  equal  for  the  State.  But  it 
will  divide  them,  and  advance  them  or  put  them  in  the 
rear,  according  to  its  special  ends,  if  on  no  other  account ; 
and  still  more  must  it  distinguish  them  from  one  another 
as  good  and  bad  citizens. 

Bruno  Bauer  disposes  of  the  Jew  question  from  the 
standpoint  that  "privilege''  is  not  justified.  Because  Jew 
and  Christian  have  each  some  point  of  advantage  over 
the  other,  and  in  having  this  point  of  advantage  are 
exclusive,  therefore  before  the  critic's  gaze  they  crumble 
into  nothingness.  With  them  the  State  lies  under  the  like 
blame,  since  it  justifies  their  having  advantages  and 
stamps  it  as  a  ''privilege"  or  prerogative,  but  thereby 
derogates  from  its  calling  to  become  a  ''free  State." 

But  now  every  one  has  something  of  advantage  over 
another— z/i^.,  himself  or  his  individuality ;  in  this  every- 
body remains  exclusive. 

And,  again,  before  a  third  party  every  one  makes  his 
peculiarity  count  for  as  much  as  possible,  and  (if  he  wants 
to  win  him  at  all)  tries  to  make  it  appear  attractive  before 
him. 

Now,  is  the  third  party  to  be  insensible  to  the  difference 
of  the  one  from  the  other?  Do  they  ask  that  of  the  free 
State  or  of  humanity?  Then  these  would  have  to  be 
absolutely  without  self-interest,  and  incapable  of  taking 
an  interest  in  any  one  whatever.  Neither  God  (who 
divides  his  own  from  the  wicked)  nor  the  State  (which 
knows  how  to  separate  good  citizens  from  bad)  was 
thought  of  as  so  indifferent. 

But  they  are  looking  for  this  very  third  party  that 
bestows  no  more  "privilege."  Then  it  is  called  perhaps 
the  free  State,  or  humanity,  or  whatever  else  it  may  be. 

As  Christian  and  Jew  are  ranked  low  by  Br.  Bauer  on 
account  of  their  asserting  privileges,  it  must  be  that  they 
could  and  should  free  themselves  from  their  narrow 
standpoint  by  self-renunciation  or  unselfishness.  If  they 
threw  ofif  their  "e^-oism,"  the  mutual  wrong  would  cease, 
and  with  it  Christian  and  Jewish  religiousness  in  general ; 


THE  OWNER 


217 


it  would  be  necessary  only  that  neither  of  them  should 
any  longer  want  to  be  anything  peculiar. 

But,  if  they  gave  up  this  exclusiveness,  with  that  the 
ground  on  which  their  hostiles  were  waged  would  in 
truth  not  yet  be  forsaken.  In  case  of  need  they  would 
indeed  find  a  third  thing  on  which  they  could  unite,  a 
"general  religion,"  a  "religion  of  humanity/'  and  the 
like ;  in  short,  an  equalization,  which  need  not  be  better 
than  that  which  would  result  if  all  Jews  became  Chris- 
tians, by  which  likewise  the  "privilege''  of  one  over  the 
other  would  have  an  end.  The  tension  *  would  indeed 
be  done  away,  but  in  this  consisted  not  the  essence  of  the 
two,  but  only  their  neighborhood.  As  being  distinguished 
from  each  other  they  must  necessarily  be  mutually  resist- 
ant,t  and  the  disparity  will  always  remain.  Truly  it  is 
not  a  failing  in  you  that  you  stiffen  X  yourself  against  me 
and  assert  your  distinctness  or  peculiarity :  you  need  not 
give  way  or  renounce  yourself. 

People  conceive  the  significance  of  the  opposition  too 
formally  and  weakly  when  they  want  only  to  "dissolve" 
it  in  order  to  make  room  for  a  third  thing  that  shall 
"unite."  The  opposition  deserves  rather  to  be  sharpened. 
As  Jew  and  Christian  you  are  in  too  slight  an  opposition, 
and  are  contending  only  about  religion,  as  it  were  about 
the  emperor's  beard,  about  a  fiddlestick's  end.  Enemies 
in  religion  indeed,  in  the  rest  you  still  remain  good  friends, 
and  equal  to  each  other,  e.  g.,  as  men.  Nevertheless  the 
rest  too  is  unlike  in  each;  and  the  time  when  you  no 
longer  merely  dissemble  your  opposition  will  be  only  when 
you  entirely  recognize  it,  and  everybody  asserts  himself 
from  top  to  toe  as  unique.%  Then  the  former  opposition 
will  assuredly  be  dissolved,  but  only  because  a  stronger 
has  taken  it  up  into  itself. 

Our  weakness  consists  not  in  this,  that  we  are  in  opposi- 
tion to  others,  but  in  this,  that  we  are  not  completely  so : 
t,  e.  that  we  are  not  entirely  severed  from  them,  or  that  we 
seek  a  "communion,"  a  "bond,"  that  in  communion  we 


\Spannung\      f  [gespannt]         i  [spannen]       §  [einj^igl 


218 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


have  an  ideal.  One  faith,  one  God,  one  idea,  one  hat,  for 
all !  If  all  were  brought  under  one  hat,  certainly  no  one 
would  any  longer  need  to  take  off  his  hat  before  another. 

The  last  and  most  decided  opposition,  that  of  unique 
against  unique,  is  at  bottom  beyond  what  is  called  opposi- 
tion, but  without  having  sunk  back  into  "unity"  and 
unison.  As  unique  you  have  nothing  in  common  with  the 
other  any  longer,  and  therefore  nothing  divisive  or  hostile 
either ;  you  are  not  seeking  to  be  in  the  right  against  him 
before  a  third  party,  and  are  standing  with  him  neither 
**on  the  ground  of  right''  nor  on  any  other  common 
ground.  The  opposition  vanishes  in  complete — severance 
or  singleness.  *  This  might  indeed  be  regarded  as  the  new 
point  in  common  or  a  new  parity,  but  here  the  parity  con- 
sists precisely  in  the  disparity,  and  is  itself  nothing  but  dis- 
parit}%  and  that  only  for  him  who  institutes  a  "com- 
parison.'' 

The  polemic  against  privilege  forms  a  characteristic 
feature  of  liberalism,  which  fumes  against  "privilege" 
because  it  itself  appeals  to  "right,"  Further  than 
to  fuming  it  cannot  carry  this;  for  privileges  do  not 
fall  before  right  falls,  as  they  are  only  forms  of  right. 
But  right  falls  apart  into  its  nothingness  when  it  is  swal- 
lowed up  by  might,  i.  e.  when  one  understands  what  is 
meant  by  "flight  goes  before  right."  All  right  explains 
itself  then  as  privilege,  and  privilege  itself  as  power,  as — 
superior  ponder. 

But  must  not  the  mighty  combat  against  superior  power 
show  quite  another  face  than  the  modest  combat  against 
privilege,  which  is  to  be  fought  out  before  a  first  judge, 
"Right,"  according  to  the  judge's  mind. 

Now,  in  conclusion,  I  have  still  to  take  back  the  half- 
way form  of  expression  of  which  I  was  willing  to  make 
use  only  so  long  as  I  was  still  rooting  among  the  entrails 
of  right  and  letting  the  word  at  least  stand.  But,  in  fact, 
with  the  concept  the  word  too  loses  its  meaning.  What 


*  [Einsigkeit] 


THE  OWNER 


219 


I  called  ''my  right''  is  no  longer  ''right''  at  an,  because 
right  can  be  bestowed  only  by  a  spirit,  be  it  the  spirit 
of  nature  or  that  of  the  species,  of  mankind,  the  Spirit 
of  God  of  that  of  His  Holiness  or  His  Highness,  etc. 
What  I  have  without  an  entitling  spirit  I  have  without 
right;  I  have  it  solely  and  alone  through  my  power. 

I  do  not  demand  any  right,  therefore  I  need  not  recog- 
nize any  either.  What  I  can  get  by  force  I  get  by  force, 
and  what  I  do  not  get  by  force  I  have  no  right  to,  nor  do 
I  give  myself  airs,  or  consolation,  with  my  imprescriptible 
right. 

With  absolute  right,  right  itself  passes  away;  the 
dominion  of  the  "concept  of  right"  is  cancelled  at  the 
same  time.  For  it  is  not  to  be  forgotten  that  hitherto 
concepts,  ideas,  or  principles  ruled  us,  and  that  among 
these  rulers  the  concepts  of  right,  or  of  justice,  played  one 
of  the  most  important  parts. 

Entitled  or  unentitled — that  does  not  concern  me;  if 
1  am  only  powerful,  I  am  of  myself  empowered,  and  need 
no  other  empowering  or  entitling. 

Right — is  a  wheel  in  the  head,  put  there  by  a  spook; 
power — that  am  I  myself,  I  am  the  powerful  one  and 
owner  of  power.  Right  is  above  me,  is  absolute,  and 
exists  in  one  higher,  as  whose  grace  it  flows  to  me ;  right 
is  a  gift  of  grace  from  the  judge;  power  and  might  exist 
only  in  me  the  powerful  and  mighty. 

IL— MY  INTERCOURSE 

In  society  the  human  demand  at  most  can  be  satisfied, 
while  the  egoistic  must  always  come  short. 

Because  it  can  hardly  escape  anybody  that  the  present 
shows  no  such  living  interest  in  any  question  as  in  the 
"social,"  one  has  to  direct  his  gaze  especially  to  society. 
Nay,  if  the  interest  felt  in  it  were  less  passionate  and 
dazzled,  people  would  not  so  much,  in  looking  at  society, 
lose  sight  of  the  individuals  in  it,  and  would  recognize 
that  a  society  cannot  become  new  so  long  as  those  who 
form  and  constitute  it  remain  the  old  ones.  If  e,  g.,  there 


220  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


was  to  arise  in  the  Jewish  people  a  society  which  should 
spread  a  new  faith  over  the  earth,  these  apostles  could  in 
no  case  remain  Pharisees. 

As  you  are,  so  you  present  yourself,  so  you  behave  to- 
ward men;  a  hypocrite  as  a  hypocrite,  a  Christian  as  a 
Christian.  Therefore  the  character  of  a  society  is  deter- 
mined by  the  character  of  its  members :  they  are  its  crea- 
tors. So  much  at  least  one  must  perceive  even  if  one 
were  not  willing  to  put  to  the  test  the  concept  ''society' 
itself. 

Ever  far  from  letting  themselves  come  to  their  full 
development  and  consequence,  men  have  hitherto  not  been 
able  to  found  their  societies  on  themselves ;  or  rather,  they 
have  been  able  only  to  found  "societies"  and  to  live  in 
societies.  The  societies  were  always  persons,  powerful  per-  j 
sons,  so-called  "moral  persons,"  i.  e.  ghosts,  before  which  | 
the  individual  had  the  appropriate  wheel  in  his  head,  the  ^ 
fear  of  ghosts.  As  such  ghosts  they  may  most  suitably 
be  designated  by  the  respective  names  "people"  and 
"peoplet" :  the  people  of  the  patriarchs,  the  people  of  the 
Hellenes,  etc.,  at  last  the — people  of  men,  Mankind 
(Anacharsis  Clootz  was  enthusiastic  for  the  "nation"  of 
mankind)  ;  then  every  subdivision  of  this  "people,"  which 
could  and  must  have  its  special  societies,  the  Spanish, 
French  people,  etc. ;  within  it  again  classes,  cities,  in  short 
all  kinds  of  corporations ;  lastly,  tapering  to  the  finest 
point,  the  little  peoplet  of  the — family.  Hence,  instead 
of  saying  that  the  person  that  walked  as  ghost  in  all 
societies  hitherto  has  been  the  people,  there  might  also 
have  been  named  the  two  extremes — ^to  wit,  either  "man- 
kind" or  the  "family,"  both  the  most  "natural-born  units.'' 
We  choose  the  word  "people"  *  because  its  derivation 
has  been  brought  into  connection  with  the  Greek  polloi, 
the  "many"  or  "the  masses,"  but  still  more  because 
"national  efforts,"  are  at  present  the  order  of  the  day,  and 
because  even  the  newest  mutineers  have  not  yet  shaken 

*  Wölk;  btit  the  etvmolo^^ical  remark  followincr  applies  eowally 
to  the  English  word  "people."    See  Liddell  &  Scott*s  Greek 

lexicon,  under  pimplemt.] 


THE  OWNER 


221 


off  this  deceptive  person,  although  on  the  other  hand  the 
latter  consideration  must  give  the  preference  to  the  ex- 
pression "mankind,"  since  on  all  sides  they  are  going  in 
for  enthusiasm  over  ''mankind." 

The  people,  then — mankind  or  the  family — have 
hitherto,  as  it  seems,  played  history:  no  egoistic  interest 
was  to  come  up  in  these  societies,  but  solely  general  ones, 
national  or  popular  interests,  class  interests,  family  inter- 
ests, and  ''general  human  interest."  But  who  has  brought 
to  their  fall  the  peoples  whose  decline  history  relates? 
Who  but  the  egoist,  who  was  seeking  his  satisfaction.  If 
once  an  egoistic  interest  crept  in,  the  society  was  ''cor- 
rupted" and  moved  toward  its  dissolution,  as  Rome,  e.  g.,. 
proves  with  its  highly  developed  system  of  private  rights^ 
or  Christianity  with  the  incessantly-breaking-in  "rational 
self-determination,"  "self-consciousness,"  the  "autonomy 
of  the  spirit,"  etc. 

The  Christian  people  has  produced  two  societies  whose 
duration  will  keep  equal  measure  with  the  permanence 
of  that  people :  these  are  the  societies  State  and  Church, 
Can  they  be  called  a  union  of  egoists?  Do  we  in  them 
pursue  an  egoistic,  personal,  own  interest,  or  do  we 
pursue  a  popular  (i.  e.  an  interest  of  the  Christian  peo- 
ple), to  wit,  a  State  and  Church  interest?  Can  I  and 
may  I  be  myself  in  them?  May  I  think  and  act  as  I 
will,  may  I  reveal  myself,  live  myself  out,  busy  myself  ? 
Must  I  not  leave  untouched  the  majesty  of  the  State,  the 
sanctity  of  the  Church? 

Well,  I  may  not  do  as  I  will.  But  shall  I  find  in  any 
society  such  an  unmeasured  freedom  of  maying?  Cer- 
tainly no !  Accordingly  we  might  be  content?  Not  a  bit ! 
It  is  a  different  thing  whether  I  rebound  from  an  ego  or 
from  a  people,  a  generalization.  There  I  am  my  oppon- 
ent's opponent,  born  his  equal ;  here  I  am  a  despised 
opponent,  bound  and  under  a  guardian :  there  I  stand  man 
to  man ;  here  I  am  a  schoolboy  who  can  accomplish  noth- 
ing against  his  comrade  because  the  latter  has  called  father 
and  mother  to  aid  and  has  crept  under  the  apron,  while  I 
am  well  scolded  as  an  ill-bred  brat,  and  I  must  not 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


''argue'':  there  I  fight  against  a  bodily  enemy;  nere 
against  mankind,  against  a  generalization,  against  a 
"majesty,''  against  spook.  But  to  me  no  majesty,  noth- 
ing sacred,  is  a  limit ;  nothing  that  I  know  how  to  over- 
power. Only  that  which  I  cannot  overpower  still  limits 
my  might ;  and  I  of  limited  might  am  temporarily  a  limited 
I,  not  limited  by  the  might  outside  me,  but  limited  by  my 
own  still  deficient  might,  by  my  own  impotence.  How- 
ever, ''the  Guard  dies,  but  does  not  surrender!"  Above 
all,  only  a  bodily  opponent ! 

I  dare  meet  every  foeman 
Whom  I  can  see  and  measure  with  my  eye, 
Whose  mettle  fires  my  mettle  for  the  fight — etc. 

Many  privileges  have  indeed  been  cancelled  with  time, 
but  solely  for  the  sake  of  the  common  weal,  of  the  State 
and  the  State's  weal,  by  no  means  for  the  strengthening 
of  me.  Vassalage,  e.  g.,  was  abrogated  only  that  a  single 
liege  lord,  the  lord  of  the  people,  the  monarchical  power, 
might  be  strengthened :  vassalage  under  the  one  became 
yet  more  rigorous  thereby.  Only  in  favor  of  the  monarch, 
be  he  called  "prince"  or  "law,"  have  privileges  fallen.  In 
France  the  citizens  are  not,  indeed,  vassals  of  the  king, 
but  are  instead  vassals  of  the  "law"  (the  Charter). 
Subordination  was  retained,  only  the  Christian  State 
recognized  that  man  cannot  serve  two  masters  (the  lord 
of  the  manor  and  the  prince,  etc.)  ;  therefore  one  obtained 
all  the  prerogatives;  now  he  can  again  place  one  above 
another,  he  can  make  "men  in  high  place." 

But  of  what  concern  to  me  is  the  common  weal? 
The  common  weal  as  such  is  not  my  weal,  but  only  the 
furthest  extremity  of  self-renunciation.  The  common 
weal  mav  cheer  aloud  while  I  must  "down" ;  *  the  State 
mav  shine  while  T  starve.  In  what  lies  the  follv  of  the 
political  liberals  but  in  their  opposing^  the  people  to  the 
government  and  talkine  of  people's  riehts?  So  there  is 
the  people  going  to  be  of  age,  etc.   As  if  one  who  has  no 

*  J  kuschen,  a  word  whose  only  use  is  in  ordering  dogs  to  keep| 
quiet.]  '  I 


THE  OWNER 


223 


mouth  could  be  muendig!"^  Only  the  individual  is  able  to 
be  muendig.  Thus  the  whole  question  of  the  liberty  of  the 
press  is  turned  upside  down  when  it  is  laid  claim  to  as 
a  ''right  of  the  people."  It  is  only  a  right,  or  better  the 
might,  of  the  individual.  If  a  people  has  liberty  of  the 
press,  then  /,  although  in  the  midst  of  this  people,  have 
it  not*  a  liberty  of  the  people  is  not  my  liberty,  and  the 
liberty  of  the  press  as  a  liberty  of  the  people  must  have 
at  its  side  a  press  law  directed  against  me. 

This  must  be  insisted  on  all  around  against  the  present- 
day  efforts  for  liberty: 

Liberty  of  the  people  is  not  my  liberty ! 

Let  us  admit  these  categories,  liberty  of  the  people  and 
right  of  the  people :  e.  g.  the  right  of  the  people  that  every- 
body may  bear  arms.  Does  one  not  forfeit  such  a  right? 
One  cannot  forfeit  his  own  right,  but  may  well  forfeit  a 
right  that  belongs  not  to  me  but  to  the  people.  I  may  be 
locked  up  for  the  sake  of  the  liberty  of  the  people ;  I  may, 
under  sentence,  incur  the  loss  of  the  right  to  bear  arms. 

Liberalism  appears  as  the  last  attempt  at  a  creation  of 
the  liberty  of  the  people,  a  liberty  of  the  commune,  of 
''society,"  of  the  general,  of  mankind;  the  dream  of  a 
humanity,  a  people,  a  commune,  a  "society,"  that  shall 
be  of  age. 

A  people  cannot  be  free  otherwise  than  at  the  indi- 
vidual's expense ;  for  it  is  not  the  individual  that  is  the 
main  point  in  this  liberty,  but  the  people.  The  freer  the 
people,  the  more  bound  the  individual ;  the  Athenian  peo- 
ple, precisely  at  its  freest  time',  created  ostracism,  ban- 
ished the  atheists,  poisoned  the  most  honest  thinker. 

How  they  do  praise  Socrates  for  his  conscientiousness, 
which  makes  him  resist  the  advice  to  get  away  from  the 
dungeon!  He  is  a  fool  he  concedes  to  the  Athenians  a 
right  to  condemn  him.  Therefore  it  certainly  serves  him 
right ;  why  then  does  he  remain  standing  on  an  equal  foot- 
ing with  the  Athenians  ?    Why  does  he  not  break  with 

*  [This  is  the  word  for  "of  age";  but  it  is  derived  from  Mund, 
"mouth,"  and  refers  properly  to  the  right  of  speaking  through 
one's  own  mouth,  not  by  a  guardian.] 


224 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


them?  Had  he  known,  and  been  able  to  know,  what  he 
was,  he  would  have  conceded  to  such  judges  no  claim,  no 
right.  That  he  did  not  escape  waa  just  his  weakness,  his 
delusion  of  still  having  something  in  common  with  the 
Athenians,  or  the  opinion  that  he  was  a  member,  a  mere 
member  of  this  people.  But  he  was  rather  this  people 
itself  in  person,  and  could  only  be  his  own  judge.  There 
was  no  judge  over  him,  as  he  himself  had  really  pro- 
nounced a  public  sentence  on  himself  and  rated  himself 
worthy  of  the  Prytaneum.  He  should  have  stuck  to  that, 
and,  as  he  had  uttered  no  sentence  of  death  against  him- 
self, should  have  despised  that  of  the  Athenians  too  and 
escaped.  But  he  subordinated  himself  and  recognized  in 
the  people  his  judge ;  he  seemed  little  to  himself  before 
the  majesty  of  the  people.  That  he  subjected  himself  to 
might  (to  which  alone  he  could  succumb)  as  to  a  ''right" 
was  treason  against  himself :  it  was  virtue.  To  Christ, 
who,  it  is  alleged,  refrained  from  using  the  power  over 
his  heavenly  legions,  the  same  scrupulousness  is  thereby 
ascribed  by  the  narrators,  Luther  did  very  well  and 
wisely  to  have  the  safety  of  his  journey  to  Worms  war- 
ranted to  him  in  black  and  white,  and  Socrates  should 
have  known  that  the  Athenians  were  his  enemies,  he  alone 
his  judge.  The  self-deception  of  a  ''reign  of  law,"  etc., 
should  have  given  way  to  the  perception  that  the  relation 
was  a  relation  of  might. 

It  was  with  pettifoggery  and  intrigues  that  Greek  lib- 
erty ended.  Why?  Because  the  ordinary  Greeks  could 
still  less  attain  that  logical  conclusion  which  not  even 
their  hero  of  thought,  Socrates,  was  able  to  draw.  What 
then  is  pettifoggery  but  a  way  of  utilizing  something 
established  without  doing  away  with  it?  I  might  add 
**for  one's  own  advantage,''  but,  you  see,  that  lies  in 
"utilizing."  Such  pettifoggers  are  the  theologians  who 
"wrest"  and  "force"  God's  word ;  what  would  they  have 
to  wrest  if  it  were  not  for  the  "established"  Word  of  God? 
So  those  liberals  who  only  shake  and  wrest  the  "estab- 
lished order."  They  are  all  perverters,  like  those  per- 
verters  of  the  law.    Socrates  recognized  law,  right;  the 


THE  OWNER 


225 


Greeks  constantly  retained  the  authority  of  right  and  law. 
If  with  this  recognition  they  wanted  nevertheless  to  assert 
their  advantage,  every  one  his  own,  then  they  had  to  seek 
it  in  perversion  of  the  law,  or  intrigue.  Alcibiades,  an 
intriguer  of  genius,  intruduces  the  period  of  xA.thenian 
'""decay'' ;  the  Spartan  Lysander  and  others  show^  that 
intrigue  had  become  universally  Greek.  Greek  law,  on 
which  the  Greek  States  rested,  had  to  be  perverted  and 
undermined  by  the  egoists  within  these  States,  and  the 
States  went  down  that  the  individuals  migh  become  free, 
the  Greek  people  fell  because  the  individuals  cared  less 
for  this  people  than  for  themselves.  In  general,  all  States, 
constitutions,  churches,  etc.,  have  sunk  by  the  secession 
of  individuals;  for  the  individual  is  the  irreconcilable 
enemy  of  every  generality,  every  tie,  i,  e.  every  fetter. 
Yet  people  fancy  to  this  day  that  man  needs  "sacred  ties" ; 
he,  the  deadly  enemy  of  every  ''tie.''  The  history  of  the 
world  shows  that  no  tie  has  yet  remained  unrent,  shows 
that  man  tirelessly  defends  himself  against  ties  of  every 
sort  and  yet,  blinded,  people  think  up  new  ties  again  and 
again,  and  think,  e.  g.,  that  they  have  arrived  at  the  right 
one  if  one  puts  upon  them  the  tie  of  a  so-called  free  con- 
stitution, a  beautiful,  constitutional  tie;  decoration  rib- 
bons, the  ties  of  confidence  between  "  

do  seem  gradually  to  have  become  somewhat  infirm,  but 
people  have  made  no  further  progress  than  from  apron- 
strings  to  garters  and  collars. 

Everything  sacred  is  a  tie,  a  fetter. 

Everything  sacred  is  and  must  be  perverted  by  per- 
verters  of  the  law ;  therefore  our  present  time  has  multi- 
tudes of  such  perverters  in  all  spheres.  They  are  pre- 
paring the  way  for  the  break-up  of  law,  for  lawlessness. 

Poor  Athenians  who  are  accused  of  pettifoggery  and 
sophistry!  poor  Alcibiades,  of  intrigue!  Why,  that  was 
just  your  best  point,  your  first  step  in  freedom.  Your 
^schylus,  Herodotus,  etc.,  only  wanted  to  have  a  free 
Greek  people;  you  were  the  first  to  surmise  something  of 
your  freedom. 

A  people  represses  those  who  tower  above  its  majesty. 


226 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


by  ostracism  against  too-powerful  citizens,  by  the  In- 
quisition against  the  heretics  of  the  Church,  by  the — 
Inquisition  against  traitors  in  the  State,  etc. 

For  the  people  is  concerned  only  with  its  self-assertion ; 
it  demands  ''patriotic  self-sacrifice''  from  everybody.  To 
it,  accordingly,  every  one  in  himself  is  indifferent,  a  noth- 
ing, and  it  cannot  do,  not  even  suffer,  what  the  individual 
and  he  alone  must  do — ^to  wit,  turn  him  to  account.  Every 
people,  every  State,  is  unjust  toward  the  egoist. 

As  long  as  there  still  exists  even  one  institution  which 
the  individual  .may  not  dissolve,  the  ownness  and  self- 
appurtenance  of  Me  is  still  very  remote.  How  can  I, 
e,  g.,  be  free  when  I  must  bind  myself  by  oath  to  a  con- 
stitution, a  charter,  a  law,  ''vow  body  and  soul"  to  my 
people?  How  can  I  be  my  own  when  my  faculties  may 
develop  only  so  far  as  they  "do  not  disturb  the  harmony 
of  society"  (Weitling)  ? 

The  fall  of  peoples  and  mankind  will  invite  me  to  my 
rise. 

Listen,  even  as  I  am  writing  this,  the  bells  begin  to 
sound,  that  they  may  jingle  in  for  to-morrow  the  festival 
of  the  thousand  years'  existence  of  our  dear  Germany. 
Sound,  sound  its  knell!  You  do  sound  solemn  enough, 
as  if  your  tongue  was  moved  by  the  presentment  that 
it  is  giving  convoy  to  a  corpse.  The  German  people  and 
German  peoples  have  behind  them  a  history  of  a  thou- 
sand years :  what  a  long  life !  O,  go  to  rest,  never  to  rise 
again — ^that  all  may  become  free  whom  you  so  long  have 
held  in  fetters.^ — The  people  is  dead. — Up  with  me! 

O  thou  my  much-tormented  German  people — what  was 
thy  torment  ?  It  was  the  torment  of  a  thought  that  can- 
not create  itself  a  body,  the  torment  of  a  walking  spirit 
that  dissolves  into  nothing  at  every  cock-crow  and  yet 
pines  for  deliverance  and  fulfilment  In  me  too  thou  hast 
lived  long,  thou  dear — thought,  thou  dear — spook.  Al- 
ready I  almost  fancied  I  had  found  the  word  of  Ihy 
deliverance,  discovered  flesh  and  bones  for  the  wandering 
spirit ;  then  I  hear  them  sound,  the  bells  that  usher  thee 
into  eternal  rest;  then  the  last  hope  fades  out,  then  the 


THE  OWNER 


227 


notes  of  the  last  love  die  away,  then  I  depart  from  the 
desolate  house  of  those  who  now  are  dead  and  enter  at 
the  door  of  the — living  one : 

For  only  he  who  is  alive  is  in  the  right. 

Farewell,  thou  dream  of  so  many  millions ;  farewell, 
thou  who  hast  tyrannized  over  thy  children  for  a  thousand 
years ! 

To-morrow  they  carry  thee  to  the  grave;  soon  thy 
sisters,  the  peoples,  will  follow  thee.   But,  when  they  have 

all  followed,  then  mankind  is  buried,  and  I  am  my 

own,  I  am  the  laughing  heir! 

The  word  Gesellschaft  (society)  has  its  origin  in  the 
word  Sal  (hall).  If  one  hall  encloses  many  persons,  then 
the  hall  causes  these  persons  to  be  in  society.  They  are 
in  society,  and  at  most  constitute  a  parlor-society  by 
talking  in  the  traditional  forms  of  parlor  speech.  When 
it  comes  to  real  intercourse,  this  is  to  be  regarded  as 
independent  of  society;  it  may  occur  or  be  lacking, 
without  altering  the  nature  of  what  is  named  society. 
Those  who  are  in  the  hall  are  a  society  even  as  mute 
persons,  or  when  they  put  each  other  off  solely  with 
empty  phrases  of  courtesy.  Intercourse  is  mutuality, 
it  is  the  action,  the  commercium,  of  individuals;  society 
is  only  community  of  the  hall,  and  even  the  statues  of 
a  museum-hall  are  in  society,  they  are  ''grouped.''  People 
are  accustomed  to  say  ''they  haben  inne^  this  hall  in 
common,"  but  the  case  is  rather  that  the  hall  has 
us  inne  or  in  it.  So  far  the  natural  signification 
of  the  word  society.  In  this  it  comes  out  that  society  is 
not  generated  by  me  and  you,  but  by  a  third  factor  which 
makes  associates  out  of  us  two,  and  that  it  is  just  this 
third  factor  that  is  the  creative  one,  that  which  creates 
society. 

Just  so  a  prison  society  or  prison  companionship  (those 


*  ["occupy" ;  literally,  "have  within"] 


228 


THE  EGO  AND  HiliS  OWN 


who  enjoy"^  the  same  prison).    H^re  we  already  hit 
upon  a  third  factor  fuller  of  significance  than  was  that 
merely  local  one,  the  hall.    Prison  no  longer  means  a 
space  only,  but  a  space  with  express  reference  to  its  in- 
habitants:  for  it  is  a  prison  only  through  being  destined 
for  prisoners,  without  whom  it  would  be  a  mere  build- 
ing.   What  gives  a  common  stamp  to  those  who  are 
gathered  in  it  ?    Evidently  the  prison  since  it  is  only 
by  means  of  the  prison  that  they  are  prisoners.  What, 
then,  determines  the  manner  of  life  of  the  prison  society  ? 
The  prison!    What  determines  their  intercourse?  The 
prison  too,  perhaps  ?    Certainly  they  can  enter  upon  in- 
tercourse only  as  prisoners,  i.  e.  only  so  far  as  the  prison 
laws  allow  it ;  but  that  they  themselves  hold  intercourse, 
I  with  you,  this  the  prison  cannot  bring  to  pass ;  on  the 
contrary,  it  must  have  an  eye  to  guarding  such  egoistic,  ' 
purely  personal  intercourse  (and  only  as  such  is  it  really 
intercourse  betwen  me  and  you) .   That  we  jointly  execute 
a  job,  run  a  machine,  effectuate  anything  in  general— for 
this  a  prison  will  indeed  provide;  but  that  I  forget  that 
I  am  a  prisoner,  and  engage  in  intercourse  with  you  who  : 
likewise  disregard  it,  brings  danger  to  the  prison,  and 
not  only  cannot  be  caused  by  it,  but  must  not  even  be 
permitted.    For  this  reason  the  saintly  and  moral-mind- 
ed French  chamber  decides  to  introduce  solitary  con- 
finement, and  other  saints  will  do  the  like  in  order  to  cut 
off  "demoralizing  intercourse."    Imprisonment  is  the  es- 
tablished and — sacred  condition,  to  injure  which  no  at- 
tempt must  be  made.   The  slightest  push  of  that  kind  is 
punishable,  as  is  every  uprising  against  a  sacred  thing 
by  which  man  is  to  be  charmed  and  chained. 

Like  the  hall,  the  prison  does  form  a  society,  a  com- 
panionship, a  communion  (e.  g.  communion  of  labor),  but 
no  intercourse,  no  reciprocity,  no  union.  On  the  con- 
trary, every  union  in  the  prison  bears  within  it  the  dan- 
gerous seed  of  a  ''plot,''  which  under  favorable  circum- 
stances might  spring  up  and  bear  fruit. 

*  [The  word  Genosse,  "companion,"  signifies  originally  a  com- 
panion in  enjoyment\ 


THE  OWNER 


229 


Yet  one  does  not  usually  enter  the  prison  voluntarily, 
and  seldom  remains  in  it  voluntarily  either,  but  cherishes 
the  egoistic  desire  for  liberty.  Here,  therefore,  it  sooner 
becomes  manifest  that  personal  intercourse  is  in  hostile 
relations  to  the  prison  society  and  tends  to  the  dissolu- 
tion of  this  very  society,  this  joint  incarceration. 

Let  us  therefore  look  about  for  such  communions  as, 
it  seems,  we  remain  in  gladly  and  voluntarily,  without 
wanting  to  endanger  them  by  our  egoistic  impulses. 

As  a  communion  of  the  required  sort  the  family  offers 
itself  in  the  first  place.  Parent,  husband  and  wife,  child- 
ren, brothers  and  sisters,  represent  a  whole  or  form  a 
family,  for  the  further  widening  of  which  the  collateral 
relatives  also  may  be  made  to  serve  if  taken  into  ac- 
count. The  family  is  a  true  communion  only  when  the 
law  of  the  family,  piety*  or  family  love,  is  observed  by 
its  members.  A  son  to  whom  parents,  brothers,  and  sis- 
ters have  become  indifferent  has  been  a  son ;  for,  as  the 
sonship  no  longer  shows  itself  eflficacious,  it  has  no  greater 
significance  than  the  long-past  connection  of  mother  and 
child  by  the  navel-string.  That  one  has  once  lived  in 
this  bodily  juncture  cannot  as  a  fact  be  undone ;  and  so 
far  one  remains  irrevocably  this  mother's  son  and  the 
brother  of  the  rest  of  her  children;  but  it  would  come 
to  a  lasting  connection  only  by  lasting  piety,  this  spirit 
of  the  family.  Individuals  are  members  of  a  family  in 
the  full  sense  only  when  they  make  the  persistence  of  the 
family  their  task ;  only  as  conservative  do  they  keep  aloof 
from  doubting  their  basis,  the  family.  To  every  mem- 
ber of  the  family  one  thing  must  be  fixed  and  sacred — 
viz.,  the  family  itself,  or,  more  expressively,  piety.  That 
the  family  is  to  persist  remains  to  its  meml3er,  so  long  as 
he  keeps  himself  free  from  that  egoism  which  is  hostile  to 
the  family,  an  unassailable  truth.  In  a  word: — If  the 
family  is  sacred,  then  nobody  who  belongs  to  it  may 

*  [This  word  in  German  does  not  mean  religion,  but,  as  in 
Latin,  faithfulness  to  family  ties— as  we  speak  of  "filial  piety." 
But  the  word  elsewhere  translated  "pious"  {fromm)  means 
''religious,"  as  usually  in  En^Ji  b.] 


230 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS.  OWN 


secede  from  it ;  else  he  becomes  a  '"criminal"  against  the 
family,  he  may  never  pursue  an  interest  hostile  to  the 
family,  e.  g.  form  a  misalliance.  He  who  does  this  has 
''dishonored  the  family,''  "put  it  to  shame,"  etc. 

Now,  if  in  an  individual  the  egoistic  impulse  has  not 
force  enough,  he  complies  and  makes  a  marriage  which 
suits  the  claims  of  the  family,  takes  a  rank  which  harmon- 
izes with  its  position,  and  the  like;  in  short,  he  "does 
honor  to  the  family." 

If  on  the  contrary,  the  egoistic  blood  flows  fierily 
enough  in  his  veins,  he  prefers  to  become  a  "criminal" 
against  the  family  and  to  throw  off  its  laws. 

Which  of  the  two  lies  nearer  my  heart,  the  good  of  the 
family  or  my  good?  In  innumerable  cases  both  go  peace- 
fully together;  the  advantage  of  the  family  is  at  the 
same  time  mine,  and  vice  versa.  Then  it  is  hard  to  de- 
cide whether  I  am  thinking  selfishly  or  for  the  common 
benefit,  and  perhaps  I  complacently  flatter  myself  with 
my  unselfishness.  But  there  comes  the  day  when  a 
necessity  of  choice  makes  me  tremble,  when  I  have  it  in 
mind  to  dishonor  my  family  tree,  to  affront  parents, 
brothers,  and  kindred.  What  then?  Now  it  will  ap- 
pear how  I  am  disposed  at  the  bottom  of  my  heart;  now 
it  will  be  revealed  whether  piety  ever  stood  above  egoism 
for  me,  now  the  selfish  one  can  no  longer  skulk  behind 
the  semblance  of  unselfishness.  A  wish  rises  in  my  soul 
and,  growing  from  hour  to  hour,  becomes  a  passion.  To 
whom  does  it  occur  at  first  blush  that  the  slightest  thought 
which  may  result  adversely  to  the  spirit  of  the  family 
(piety)  bears  within  it  a  transgression  against  this?  nay, 
who  at  once,  in  the  first  moment,  becomes  completely 
conscious  of  the  matter.  It  happens  so  with  Juliet  in 
"Romeo  and  Juliet."  The  unruly  passion  can  at  last 
no  longer  be  tamed  and  undermines  the  building  of  pietv. 
You  will  say,  indeed,  it  is  from  self-will  that  the  family 
casts  out  of  its  bosom  those  wilful  ones  that  grant  more 
of  a  hearing  to  their  passion  than  to  pietv :  the  good  Pro- 
testants used  the  same  excuse  with  much  success  against 
the  Catholics,  and  believed  in  it  themselves.    But  it  is 


THE  OWNER 


231 


just  a  subterfuge  to  roll  the  fault  off  oneself,  nothing 
more.  The  Catholics  had  regard  for  the  common  bond 
of  the  church,  and  thrust  those  heretics  from  them  only 
because  these  did  not  have  so  much  regard  for  the  bond 
of  the  church  as  to  sacrifice  their  convictions  to  it;  the 
former,  therefore,  held  the  bond  fast  because  the  bond, 
the  Catholic  (i.  e.  common  and  united)  church,  was 
sacred  to  them ;  the  latter,  on  the  contrary,  disregarded  the 
bond.  Just  so  those  who  lack  piety.  They  are  not  thrust 
out,  but  thrust  themselves  out,  prizing  their  passion,  their 
wilfulness  higher  than  the  bond  of  the  family. 

But  now  sometimes  a  wish  glimmers  in  a  less  passionate 
and  wilful  heart  than  Juliet's.  The  pliable  girl  brings 
herself  as  di  sacrifice  to  the  peace  of  the  family.  One 
might  say  that  here  too  selfishness  prevailed,  for  the  de- 
cision came  from  the  feeling  that  the  pliable  girl  felt  her- 
self more  satisfied  by  the  unity  of  the  family  than  by 
the  fulfilment  of  her  wish.  That  might  be;  but  what 
if  there  remained  a  sure  sign  that  egoism  had  been  sacri- 
ficed to  piety?  What  if,  even  after  the  wish,  that  had 
been  directed  against  the  peace  of  the  family  was  sacri- 
ficed, it  remained  at  least  as  a  recollection  of  a  ''sacrifice" 
brought  to  a  sacred  tie?  What  if  the  pliable  girl  were 
conscious  of  having  left  her  self-will  unsatisfied  and 
humbly  subjected  herself  to  a  higher  power?  Subjected 
and  sacrificed,  because  the  superstition  of  piety  exercised 
its  dominion  over  her ! 

There  egoism  won,  here  piety  wins  and  the  egoistic 
heart  bleeds ;  there  egoism  was  strong,  here  it  was — 
weak.  But  the  weak,  as  we  have  long  known,  are  the 
— unselfish.  For  them,  for  these  its  weak  members,  the 
family  cares,  because  they  belong  to  the  family,  do  not 
belong  to  themselves  and  care  for  themselves.  This 
weakness  Hegel,  e,  g.,  praises  when  he  wants  to  have 
match-making  left  to  the  choice  of  the  parents. 

As  a  sacred  communion  to  which,  among  the  rest,  the 
individual  owes  obedience,  the  family  has  the  judicial 
function  too  vested  in  it;  such  a  ''family  court''  is  de- 
scribed e.  g.  in  the  "Cabanis"  of  Wilibald  Alexis.  There 


232 


THE  EGO  AND  HBS  OWN 


the  father,  in  the  name  of  the  ''family  council,"  puts  the 
intractable  son  among  the  soldiers  and  thrusts  him  out  of 
the  family,  in  order  to  cleanse  the  smirched  family  again 
by  means  of  this  act  of  punishment. — The  most  con- 
sistent development  of  family  responsibility  is  contained 
in  Chinese  law,  according  to  which  the  whole  family  has 
to  expiate  the  individual's  fault. 

To-day,  however,  the  arm  of  family  power  seldom 
reaches  far  enough  to  take  seriously  in  hand  the  punish- 
ment of  apostates  (in  most  cases  the  State  protects  even 
against  disinheritance).  The  criminal  against  the  fam- 
ily (family-criminal)  flees  into  the  domain  of  the  State 
and  is  free,  as  the  State  criminal  who  gets  away  to  Amer- 
ica is  no  longer  reached  by  the  punishments  of  his  State. 
He  who  has  shamed  his  family,  the  graceless  son,  is 
protected  aginst  the  family's  punishment  because  the 
State,  this  protecting  lord,  takes  away  from  family  pun- 
ishment its  "sacredness"  and  profanes  it,  decreeing  that 
it  is  only — ''revenge" :  it  restrains  punishment,  this  sacred 
family  right,  because  before  its,  the  State's,  "sacredness" 
the  subordinate  sacredness  of  the  family  always  pales  and 
loses  its  sanctity  as  soon  as  it  comes  in  conflict  with 
this  higher  sacredness.  Without  the  conflict,  the  State 
lets  pass  the  lesser  sacredness  of  the  family;  but  in  the 
opposite  case  it  even  commands  crime  against  the  family, 
charging,  e.  g.,  the  son  to  refuse  obedience  to  his  parents 
as  soon  as  they  want  to  beguile  him  to  a  crime  against 
the  State. 

Well,  the  egoist  has  broken  the  ties  of  the  family  and 
found  in  the  State  a  lord  to  shelter  him  against  the 
grievously  affronted  spirit  of  the  family.  But  where 
has  he  run  now?  Straight  into  a  new  society,  in  which 
his  egoism  is  awaited  by  the  same  snares  and  nets  that  it 
has  just  escaped.  For  the  State  is  likewise  a  society,  not 
a  union;  it  is  the  broadened  family  ("Father  of  the 
Country — Mother  of  the  Country — children  of  the 
country"). 

What  is  called  a  State  is  a  tissue  and  plexus  of  de- 


THE  OWNER 


233 


pendence  and  adherence;  it  is  a  belonging  together,  a 
holding  together,  in  which  those  who  are  placed  together 
fit  themselves  to  each  other,  or,  in  short,  mutually  depend 
on  each  other :  it  is  the  order  of  this  dependence.  Sup  - 
pose  the  king,  whose  authority  lends  authority  to  all 
down  to  the  beadle,  should  vanish:  still  all  in  whom 
the  will  for  order  was  awake  would  keep  order  erect 
against  the  orders  of  bestiality.  If  disorder  were  vic- 
torious, the  State  would  be  at  an  end. 

But  is  this  thought  of  love,  to  fit  ourselves  to  each 
other,  to  adhere  to  each  other  and  depend  on  each  other,, 
really  capable  of  winning  us?  According  to  this  the 
State  would  be  love  realized,  the  being  for  each  other 
and  living  for  each  other  of  all.  Is  not  self-will  being 
lost  while  we  attend  to  the  will  for  order?  Will  people 
not  be  satisfied  when  order  is  cared  for  by  authority,. 
i.  e,  when  authority  sees  to  it  that  no  one  ''gets  in  the 
way  of"  another;  when,  then,  the  herd  is  judiciously 
distributed  or  ordered  ?  Why,  then  everything  is  in  "'the 
best  order,''  and  it  is  this  best  order  that  is  called — 
State ! 

Our  societies  and  States  are  without  our  making  them, 
are  united  without  our  uniting,  are  predestined  and  estab- 
lished, or  have  an  independent  standing*  of  their  own, 
are  the  indissolubly  established  against  us  egoists.  The 
fight  of  the  world  to-day  is,  as  it  is  said,  directed  against 
the  ''established.-'  Yet  people  are  wont  to  misunder- 
stand this  as  if  it  were  only  that  what  is  now  established 
was  to  be  exchanged  for  another,  a  better,  established 
system.  But  war  might  rather  be  declared  against  estab- 
lishment itself,  i.  e.  the  State,  not  a  particular  State,  not 
any  such  thing  as  the  mere  condition  of  the  State  at  the 
time;  it  is  not  another  State  (such  as  a  ''people's  State") 
that  men  aim  at,  but  their  union,  uniting,  this  ever-fluid 
uniting  of  everything  standing. — A  State  exists  even 
without  my  co-operation :  I  am  born  in  it,  brought  up  in 


*  [It  should  be  remembered  that  the  words  "establish"  and 
"State"  are  both  derived  from  the  root  "stand."] 


234 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


it,  under  obligations  to  it,  and  must  ''do  it  homage."* 

It  takes  me  up  into  its  ''favor,''t  and  I  live  by  its  "grace." 
Thus  the  independent  establishment  of  the  State  founds 
my  lack  of  independence ;  its  condition  as  a  ''natural 
growth/'  its  organism,  demands  that  my  nature  do  not 
grow  freely,  but  be  cut  to  fit  it.  That  it  may  be  able  to 
unfold  in  natural  growth,  it  applies  to  me  the  shears  of 
"civilization" ;  it  gives  me  an  education  and  culture 
adapted  to  it,  not  to  me,  and  teaches  me  e.  g.  to  respect 
the  laws^  to  refrain  from  injury  to  State  property  (i.  e, 
private  property),  to  reverence  divine  and  earthly  high- 
ness, etc.;  in  short,  it  teaches  me  to  be — unpunishable, 
"sacrificing''  my  ownness  to  "sacredness"  (everything 
possible  is  sacred,  e.  g.  property,  others'  life,  etc.).  In 
this  consists  the  sort  of  civilization  and  culture  that 
the  State  is  able  to  give  me:  it  brings  me  up  to  be  a 
"serviceable  instrument,"  a  "serviceable  member  of 
society." 

This  every  State  must  do,  the  people's  State  as  well 
as  the  absolute  or  constitutional  one.  It  must  do  so 
as  long  as  we  rest  in  the  error  that  it  is  an  as  which 
it  then  applies  to  itself  the  name  of  a  "moral,  mystical,  or 
political  person."  I,  who  really  am  I,  must  pull  off  this 
lion-skin  of  the  I  from  the  stalking  thistle-eater.  What 
manifold  robbery  have  I  not  put  up  with  in  the  history 
of  the  world !  There  I  let  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  cats 
and  crocodiles,  receive  the  honor  of  ranking  as  I ;  there 
Jehovah,  Allah,  and  Our  Father  came  and  were  invested 
w4th  the  I;  there  families  (tribes,  peoples,  and  at  last 
actually  mankind,  came  and  were  honored  as  I's ;  there 
the  Church,  the  State,  came  with  the  pretension  to  be  I — 
and  I  gazed  calmly  on  all.  What  wonder  if  then  there 
was  always  a  real  I  too  that  joined  the  company  and 
affirmed  in  my  face  that  it  was  not  my  you  but  my  real 
/.  Why,  the  Son  of  Man  par  excellence  had  done  the 
like;  why  should  not  a  son  of  man  do  it  too?  So  I  saw 
my  I  always  above  me  and  outside  me,  and  could  never 
really  come  to  myself.  

*  [huldigen]  t  [Huld] 


THE  OWNER 


235 


I  never  believed  in  myself;  I  never  believed  in  my 
present,  I  saw  myself  only  in  the  future.  The  boy  be- 
lieves he  will  be  a  proper  I,  a  proper  fellow,  only  when 
he  has  become  a  man;  the  man  thinks,  only  in  the  other 
world  will  he  be  something  proper.  And,  to  enter  more 
closely  upon  reality  at  once,  even  the  best  are  to-day 
still  persuading  each  other  that  one  must  have  received 
into  himself  the  State,  his  people,  mankind,  and 
what  not,  in  order  to  be  a  real  I,  a  ''free  burgher,"  a 
''citizen,''  a  "free  or  true  man" ;  they  too  see  the  truth 
and  reality  of  me  in  the  reception  of  an  alien  I  and  de- 
votion to  it.  And  what  sort  of  an  I?  An  I  that  is 
neither  an  I  nor  a  you,  a  fancied  I  a  spook. 

While  in  the  Middle  Ages  the  church  could  well  brook 
many  States  living  united  in  it,  the  States  learned  after 
the  Reformation,  especially  after  the  Thirty  Years'  War, 
to  tolerate  many  churches  (confessions)  gathering  under 
one  crown.  But  all  States  are  religious  and,  as  the  case 
may  be,  "Christian  States,"  and  make  it  their  task  to 
force  the  intractable,  the  "egoists,"  under  the  bond  of 
the  unnatural,  i.  e.  Christianize  them.  All  arrangements 
of  the  Christian  State  have  the  object  of  Christianizing 
the  people.  Thus  the  court  has  the  object  of  forcing 
people  to  justice,  the  school  that  of  forcing  them  to  men- 
tal culture — in  short,  the  object  of  protecting  those  who 
act  Christianly  against  those  who  act  unchristianly,  of 
bringing  Christian  action  to  dominion^  of  making  it 
powerful.  Among  these  means  of  force  the  State  counted 
the  Church  too,  it  demanded  a — particular  religion  from 
everybody.  Dtipin  said  lately  against  the  clergy,  "In- 
struction and  education  belong  to  the  State." 

Certainly  everything  that  regards  the  principle  of 
morality  is  a  State  affair.  Hence  it  is  that  the  Chinese 
State  meddles  so  much  in  family  concerns,  and  one  is 
nothing  there  if  one  is  not  first  of  all  a  good  child  to 
his  parents.  Family  concerns  are  altogether  State  con- 
cerns with  us  too,  only  that  our  State — puts  confidence 
in  the  families  without  painful  oversight;  it  holds  the 


236 


THE  EGO  AND  flllS  OWN 


family  bound  by  the  marriage  tie,  and  'this  tie  cannot  be 
broken  without  it. 

But  that  the  State  makes  me  responsible  for  my  prin- 
ciples, and  demands  certain  ones  from  me,  might  make 
me  ask,  what  concern  has  it  with  the  "wheel  in  my  head'* 
(principle)  ?  Very  much,  for  the  State  is  the — ruling 
principle.  It  is  supposed  that  in  divorce  matters,  in  mar- 
riage law  in  general,  the  question  is  of  the  proportion 
of  rights  between  Church  and  State.  Rather,  the  ques- 
tion is  of  whether  anything  sacred  is  to  rule  over  man, 
be  it  called  faith  or  ethical  law  (morality).  The  State 
behaves  as  the  same  ruler  that  the  Church  was.  The 
later  rests  on  godliness,  the  former  on  morality. 

People  talk  of  the  tolerance,  the  leaving  opposite  ten- 
dencies free,  and  the  like,  by  which  civilized  States  are 
distinguished.  Certainly  some  are  strong  enough  to  look 
with  complacency  on  even  the  most  unrestrained  meet- 
ings, while  others  charge  their  catchpolls  to  go  hunting  . 
for  tobacco-pipes.  Yet  for  one  State  as  for  another 
the  play  of  individuals  among  themselves,  their  buzzing 
to  and  fro,  their  daily  life,  is  an  incident  which  it  must 
be  content  to  leave  to  themselves  because  it  can  do  noth- 
ing with  this.  Many,  indeed,  still  strain  out  gnats  and 
swallow  camels,  while  others  are  shrewder.  Individuals 
are  ''freer"  in  the  latter,  because  less  pestered.  But  / 
am  free  in  no  State.  The  lauded  tolerance  of  States  is  i 
simply  a  tolerating  of  th^  ''harmless,''  the  "not  danger- 
ous" ;  it  is  only  elevation  above  pettymindedness,  only  a 
more  estimable,  grander,  prouder — despotism.  A  certain 
State  seemed  for  a  while  to  mean  to  be  pretty  well  ele-  ;^ 
vated  above  literary  combats,  which  might  be  carried  on 
with  all  heat;  England  is  elevated  above  popular  turmoil 
and — tobacco-smoking.  But  woe  to  the  literature  that 
deals  blows  at  the  State  itself,  woe  to  the  mobs  that 
"endanger"  the  State.  In  that  certain  State  they  dream 
of  a  "free  science,"  in  England  of  a  "free  popular  life." 

The  State  does  let  individuals  play  as  freely  as  possible, 
only  they  must  not  be  in  earnest,  must  not  forget  it. 
Man  must  not  carry  on  intercourse  with  man  uncon- 


THE  OWNER 


237 


cernedly,  not  without  "superior  oversight  and  media- 
tion/' I  must  not  execute  all  that  I  am  able  to,  but  only 
so  much  as  the  State  allows ;  I  must  not  turn  to  account 
my  thoughts,  nor  my  work,  nor,  in  general,  anything  of 
mine. 

The  State  always  has  the  sole  purpose  to  limit,  tame, 
subordinate,  the  individual — to  make  him  subject  to  some 
generality  or  other ;  it  lasts  only  so  long  as  the  individual 
is  not  all  in  all,  and  it  is  only  the  clearly-marked  restric- 
tion of  me,  my  limitation,  my  slavery.  Never  does  a 
State  aim  to  bring  in  the  free  activity  of  individuals, 
but  always  that  which  is  bound  to  the  purpose  of  the 
State.  Through  the  State  nothing  in  cojuinon  comes  to 
pass  either,  as  little  as  one  can  call  a  piece  of  cloth  the 
common  work  of  all  the  individual  parts  of  a  machine ; 
it  is  rather  the  work  of  the  whole  machine  as  a  unit, 
machine  work.  In  the  same  style  everything  is  done  by 
the  State  machine  too ;  for  it  moves  the  clockwork  of 
the  individual  minds,  none  of  which  follow  their  own 
impulse.  The  State  seeks  to  hinder  every  free  activity 
by  its  censorship,  its  supervision,  its  police,  and  holds 
this  hindering  to  be  its  duty,  because  it  is  in  truth  a  duty 
of  self-preservation.  The  State  wants  to  make  some- 
thing out  of  man,  therefore  there  live  in  it  only  made 
men;  every  one  who  wants  to  be  his  own  self  is  its  op- 
ponent and  is  nothing.  ''He  is  nothing"  means  as  much 
as,  The  State  does  not  make  use  of  him,  grants  him  no 
position,  no  office,  no  trade,  and  the  like. 

E.  Bauer,*  in  the  ''Liberale  Bestrehungen''  H,  50,  is 
still  dreaming  of  a  ''government  which,  proceeding  out 
of  the  people,  can  never  stand  in  opposition  to  it."  He 
does  indeed  (p.  69)  himself  take  back  the  word  "govern- 
ment":  "In  the  republic  no  government  at  all  obtains, 
but  only  an  executive  authority.  An  authority  which 
proceeds  purely  and  alone  out  of  the  people;  which  has 
not  an  independent  power,  independent  principles,  inde- 

*What  was  said  in  the  concluding  remarks  after  Humane 
Liberalism  holds  good  of  the  following — to  wit,  that  it  was  like- 
wise written  immediately  after  the  appearance  of  the  book  cited. 


238  THE  EGO  AND  HDS  OWN 


pendent  officers,  over  against  the  people ;  but  wliich  has 
its  foundation,  the  fountain  of  its  power  and  of  its  prin- 
ciples, in  the  sole,  supreme  authority  of  the  State,  in  the 
people.  The  concept  government,  therefore,  is  not  at 
all  suitable  in  the  people's  State.  But  the  things  re- 
mains the  same.  That  which  has  ^'proceeded,  been 
founded,  sprung  from  the  fountain''  becomes  something 
''independent"  and,  like  a  child  delivered  from  the  womb, 
enters  upon  opposition  at  once.  Th::;  government,  if  it 
were  nothing  independent  and  opposing,  would  be  noth- 
ing at  all. 

'Tn  the  free  State  there  is  no  government,"  etc.  (p. 
94).  This  surely  means  that  the  people^  when  it  is  the 
sovereign^  does  not  let  itself  be  conducted  by  a  superior 
authority.  Is  it  perchance  different  in  absolute  mon- 
archy ?  Is  there  there  for  the  sovereign,  perchance,  a 
government  standing  over  him?  Over  the  sovereign,  be 
he  called  prince  or  people,  there  never  stands  a  govern- 
ment: that  is  understood  of  itself.  But  over  me  there 
will  stand  a  government  in  every  ''State/'  in  the  abso- 
lute as  well  as  in  the  republican  or  "free."  /  am  as  badly 
off  in  one  as  in  the  other. 

The  republic  is  nothing  whatever  but — absolute  mon- 
archy ;  for  it  makes  no  difference  whether  the  monarch 
is  called  prince  or  people,  both  being  a  "majesty."  Con- 
stitutionalism itself  proves  that  nobody  is  able  and  will- 
ing to  be  only  an  instrument.  The  ministers  domineer 
over  their  master  the  prince,  the  deputies  over  their 
master  the  people.  Here,  then,  the  parties  at  least  are 
already  free — videlicet,  the  office-holders'  party  (so- 
called  people's  party).  The  prince  must  conform  to 
the  will  of  the  ministers,  the  people  dance  to  the  pipe 
of  the  chambers.  Constitutionalism  is  further  than  the 
republic,  because  it  is  the  State  in  incipient  dissolution. 

E.  Bauer  denies  (p.  56)  that  the  people  is  a  "per-  1 
sonality"  in  the  constitutional  State ;  per  contra,  then,  in 
the  republic?  Well,  in  the  constitutional  State  the  people 
is— a  party,  and  a  party  is  surely  a  "personalitv"  if  one 
is  once  resolved  to  talk  of  a  "political"  (p.  76)  moral 


THE  OWNER 


239 


person  anyhow.    The  fact  is  that  a  moral  person,  be  it 

called  people's  party  or  people  or  even  ''the  Lord/'  is  in 
no  wise  a  person,  but  a  spook. 

Further,  E.  Bauer  goes  on  (p.  69)  :  ''guardianship  is 
the  characteristic  of  a  government."  Truly,  still  more 
that  of  a  people  and  "people's  State";  it  is  the  char- 
acteristic of  all  dominion.  A  people's  State,  which 
"unites  in  itself  all  completeness  of  power/'  the  "abso- 
lute master,"  cannot  let  me  become  powerful.  And  what 
a  chimera,  to  be  no  longer  willing  to  call  the  "people's 
officials"  "servants,  instruments,"  because  they  "execute 
the  free,  rational  law-will  of  the  people!"  (p.  73).  He 
thinks  (p.  (74)  :  "Only  by  all  official  circles  subordi- 
nating themselves  to  the  government's  views  can  unity 
be  brought  into  the  State" ;  but  his  "people's  State"  is 
to  have  "unity"  too ;  how  will  a  lack  of  subordination  be 
allowed  there?  subordination  to  the — people's  will. 

"In  the  constitutional  State  it  is  the  regent  and  his 
disposition  that  the  whole  structure  of  government  rests 
on  in  the  end."  (Ibid,,  p.  130).  How  would  that  be 
otherwise  in  the  "people's  State"?  Shall  /  not  there  be 
governed  by  the  people's  disposition  too,  and  does  it 
make  a  difference  for  me  whether  I  see  myself  kept  in 
dependence  by  the  prince's  disposition  or  by  the  people's 
disposition,  so-called  "public  opinion"?  li  dependence 
means  as  much  as  "religious  relation,"  as  E.  Bauer  right- 
ly alleges,  then  in  the  people's  State,  the  people  remains 
for  me  the  superior  .power,  the  "majesty"  (for  God  and 
prince  have  their  proper  essence  in  "majesty")  to  which 
I  stand  in  religious  relations. — Like  the  sovereign  regent, 
the  sovereign  people  too  would  be  reached  by  no  law. 
E.  Bauer's  whole  attempt  comes  to  a  change  of  masters. 
Instead  of  wanting  to  make  the  people  free,  he  should 
have  had  his  mind  on  the  sole  realizable  freedom,  his 
own. 

In  the  constitutional  State  absolutism  itself  has  at  last 
come  in  conflict  with  itself,  as  it  has  been  shattered  into 
a  duality ;  the  government  wants  to  be  absolute,  and  the 


240 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


people  wants  to  be  absolute.  These  two  absolutes  will 
wear  out  against  each  other. 

E.  Bauer  inveighs  against  the  determination  of  the 
regent  by  birth,  by  chance.  But,  when  *'the  people''  have 
become  ''the  sole  power  in  the  State"  (p.  132),  have 
we  not  then  in  it  a  master  from  chance F  Why,  what  is 
the  people  ?  The  people  has  always  been  only  the  body 
of  'the  government:  it  is  many  under  one  hat  (a  prince's 
hat)  or  many  under  one  constitution  And  the  constitu- 
tion is  the — prince.  Princes  and  peoples  will  persist  so 
long  as  both  do  not  collapse,  i.  e,  fall  together.  If  under 
one  constitution  there  are  many  ''peoples"—^,  g,  in  the 
ancient  Persian  monarchy  and  to-day — then  these  "peo- 
ples" rank  only  as  ''provinces."  For  me  the  people  is  in 
any  case  an — accidental  power,  a  force  of  nature,  an 
enemy  that  I  must  overcome. 

What  is  one  to  think  of  under  the  name  of  an  "organ- 
ized" people  {ibid,,  p.  132)  ?  A  people  "that  no  longer 
has  a  government,"  that  governs  itself.  In  which,  there- 
fore, no  ego  stands  out  prominently;  a  people  organized 
by  ostracism.  The  banishment  of  egos,  ostracism,  makes 
the  people  autocrat. 

If  you  speak  of  the  people,  you  must  speak  of  the 
prince;  for  the  people,  if  it  is  to  be  a  subject"^  and  make 
history,  must,  like  everything  that  acts,  have  a  head,  its 
"supreme  head."  Weitling  sets  this  forth  in  the  "Trio," 
and  Proudhon  declares,  '%ine  societe,  pour  mnsi  dire 
acephale,  ne  peut  vivre/'f 

The  vox  populi  is  now  always  held  up  to  us,  and  "pub- 
lic opinion"  is  to  rule  our  princes.  Certainly  the  vox 
populi  is  at  the  same  time  vox  dei;  but  is  either  of  any 
use,  and  is  not  the  vox  principis  also  vox  deif 

At  this  point  the  "Nationals"  may  be  brought  to  mind. 
To  demand  of  the  thirty-eight  States  of  Germany  that 
they  shall  act  as  one  nation  can  only  be  put  alongside  the 
senseless  desire  that  thirty-eight  swarms  of  bees,  led  by 

*  [In  the  philosophical  sense  (a  thinking  and  acting  being),  not 
in  the  political  sense.] 

t  ''Creation  de  1' Ordre/'  p.  485. 


THE  OWNER 


241 


thirty-eight  queen-bees,  shall  unite  themselves  into  one 
swarm.  Bees  they  all  remain;  but  it  is  not  the  bees  as 
bees  that  belong  together  and  can  join  themselves  to- 
gether, it  is  only  that  the  subject  bees  are  connected  with 
the  ruling  queens.  Bees  and  peoples  are  destitute  of  will, 
and  the  instinct  of  their  queens  leads  them. 

If  one  were  to  point  the  bees  to  their  beehood,  in  which 
at  any  rate  they  are  all  equal  to  each  other,  one  would  be 
doing  the  same  thing  that  they  are  now  doing  so  storm- 
ily  in  pointing  the  Germans  to  their  Germanhood.  Why, 
Gerfnanhood  is  just  like  beehood  in  this  very  thing, 
that  it  bears  in  itself  the  necessity  of  cleavages  and  sepa- 
rations, yet  without  pushing  on  to  the  last  separation, 
where,  with  the  complete  carrying  through  of  the  pro- 
cess of  separating,  its  end  appears :  I  mean,  to  the  separa- 
tion of  man  from  man.  Germanhood  does  indeed  divide 
itself  into  different  peoples  and  tribes,  i.  e.  beehives;  but 
the  individual  who  has  the  quality  of  being  a  German  is 
still  as  powerless  as  the  isolated  bee.  And  yet  only  in- 
dividuals can  enter  into  union  with  each  other,  and  all 
alliances  and  leagues  of  peoples  are  and  remain  mechan- 
ical compoundings,  because  those  who  come  together,  at 
least  so  far  as  the  ^'peoples"  are  regarded  as  the  ones 
that  have  come  together,  are  destitute  of  will.  Only  with 
the  last  separation  does  separation  itself  end  and  change 
to  unification. 

.  Now  the  Nationals  are  exerting  themselves  to  set  up 
the  abstract,  lifeless  unity  of  beehood ;  but  the  self-owned 
are  going  to  fight  for  the  unity  willed  by  their  own  will, 
for  union.  This  is  the  token  of  all  reactionary  wishes, 
that  they  want  to  set  up  something  general,  abstract,  an 
empty,  lifeless  concept^  in  distinction  from  which  the  self- 
owned  aspire  to  relieve  the  robust,  lively  particular  from 
the  trashy  burden  of  generalities.  The  reactionaries 
would  be  glad  to  smite  a  people,  a  nation,  forth  from  the 
earth ;  the  self-owned  have  before  their  eyes  only  them- 
selves. In  essentials  the  two  efforts  that  are  just  now 
the  order  of  the  day — to  wit,  the  restoration  of  provincial 
rights  and  of  the  old  tribal  divisions  (Franks,  Bavarians, 


242 


THE  EGO  AND  HIIS  OWN 


etc.,  Lusatia,  etc.),  and  the  restoration  of  the  entire  na- 
tionahty — coincide  in  one.  But  the  Germans  will  come 
mto  unison,  i.  e,  unite  themselves,  only  when  they  knock 
over  their  beehood  as  well  as  all  the  beehives;  in  other 
words,  when  they  are  more  than — Germans:  only  then 
can  they  form  a  "German  Union."  They  must  not  want 
to  turn  back  into  their  nationality,  into  the  womb,  in 
order  to  be  born  again,  but  let  every  one  turn  in  to  him- 
self. How  ridiculously  sentimental  when  one  German 
grasps  another's  hand  and  presses  it  with  sacred  awe  be- 
cause ''he  too  is  a  German" !  With  that  he  is  something 
great!  But  this  will  certainly  still  be  thought  touching 
as  long  as  people  are  enthusiastic  for  ''brotherliness,"  i.  e, 
as  long  as  they  have  a  ''family  disposition^'  From  the 
superstition  of  "piety,"  from  "brotherliness"  or  "child- 
likeness"  or  however  else  the  soft-hearted  piety-phrases 
run, — from  the  family  spirit, — the  Nationals,  who  want 
to  have  a  great  family  of  Germans,  cannot  liberate  them- 
selves. 

Aside  from  this,  the  so-called  Nationals  would  only  | 
have  to  understand  themselves  rightly  in  order  to  lift 
themselves  out  of  their  juncture  with  the  good-natured 
Teutomaniacs.  For  the  uniting  for  material  ends  and 
interests,  which  they  demand  of  the  Germans,  comes  to 
nothing  else  than  a  voluntary  union.  Carriere,  inspired, 
cries  out,"^  "Railroads  are  to  the  more  penetrating  eye 
the  way  to  a  life  of  the  people  such  as  has  not  yet  any-  j 
where  appeared  in  such  significance."  Quite  right,  it  will  ^ 
be  a  life  of  the  people  that  has  nowhere  appeared,  be- 
cause it  is  not  a — life  of  the  people. — So  Carriere  then 
combats  himself  (p.  10)  :  "Pure  humanity  or  manhood 
cannot  be  better  represented  than  by  a  people  fulfilling  its 
mission."  Why,  by  this  nationality  only  is  represented. 
"Washed-out  generality  is  lower  than  the  form  complete 
in  itself,  which  is  itself  a  whole,  and  lives  as  a  living 
member  of  the  truly  general,  the  organized."  Why,  the 
people  is  this  very  "washed-out  generality,"  and  it  is  only 
a  man  that  is  the  "form  complete  in  itself." 


*  "Koelner  Dom''  p.  4. 


THE  OWNER 


243 


The  impersonality  of  what  they  call  ''people,  nation/^ 
is  clear  also  from  this:  that  a  people  which  wants  to 
bring  its  I  into  view  to  the  best  of  its  power  puts  as  its 
head  the  ruler  without  will.  It  finds  itself  in  the  alter- 
native either  to  be  subjected  to  a  prince  who  realizes  only 
himself,  his  individual  pleasure — then  it  does  not  recog- 
nize in  the  ''absolute  master"  its  own  will,  the  so-called 
will  of  the  people — ,  or  to  seat  on  the  throne  a  prince  who 
gives  effect  to  no  will  of  his  own- — then  it  has  a  prince 
without  will,  w^hose  place  some  ingenious  clockwork 
would  perhaps  fill  just  as  well. — Therefore  insight  need 
go  only  a  step  farther;  then  it  becomes  clear  of  itself  that 
the  I  of  the  people  is  an  impersonal,  "spiritual"  power, 
the — law.  The  people's  I,  therefore,  is  a- — spook,  not 
an  1.  I  am  I  only  by  this,  that  I  make  myself ;  i,  e.  that 
it  is  not  another  who  makes  me,  but  I  must  be  my  own 
work.  But  how  is  it  with  this  I  of  the  people  ?  Chance 
plays  it  into  the  people's  hand,  chance  gives  it  this  or  that 
born  lord,  accidents  procure  it  the  chosen  one ;  he  is  not 
its  (the  ''sovereign '  people's)  product,  as  I  am  my  prod- 
uct. Conceive  of  one  wanting  to  talk  you  into  believing 
that  you  were  not  your  I,  but  Tom  or  Jack  was  your  I ! 
But  so  it  is  with  the  people,  and  rightly.  For  the  people 
has  an  I  as  little  as  the  eleven  planets  counted  together 
have  an  /,  though  they  revolve  around  a  common  centre. 

Bailly's  utterance  is  representative  of  the  slave-disposi- 
tion that  folks  manifest  before  the  sovereign  people,  as 
before  the  prince.  "I  have,"  says  he,  "no  longer  any  ex- 
tra reason  when  the  general  reason  has  pronounced  it- 
self. My  first  law  was  the  nation's  will;  as  soon  as  it 
had  assembled  I  knew  nothing  beyond  its  sovereign  will." 
He  would  have  no  "extra  reason,"  and  yet  this  extra 
reason  alone  accomplishes  everything.  Just  so  Mirabeau 
inveighs  in  the  words,  "No  power  on  earth  has  the  right 
to  say  to  the  nation's  representatives.  It  is  my  will !" 

As  with  the  Greeks,  there  is  now  a  wish  to  make  man 
a  zoon  politicon,  a  citizen  of  the  State  or  political  man. 
So  he  ranked  for  a  long  time  as  a  "citizen  of  heaven." 
But  the  Greek  fell  into  ignominy  along  with  his  State, 


244 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


the  citizen  of  heaven  likewise  falls  with  heaven;  we,  on 
the  other  hand,  are  not  willing  to  go  down  along  with 
the  people,  the  nation  and  nationality,  not  willing  to  be 
merely  political  men  or  politicians.  Since  the  Revolu- 
tion they  have  striven  to  ''make  the  people  happy,"  and 
in  making  the  people  happy,  great,  and  the  like,  they 
make  Us  unhappy:  the  people's  good  hap  is — my  mis- 
hap. 

What  empty  talk  the  political  liberals  utter  with  em- 
ohatic  decorum  is  well  seen  again  in  Nauwerk's  ''On 
taking  Part  in  the  State."  There  complaint  is  made  of 
those  who  are  indifferent  and  do  not  take  part,  who  are 
not  in  the  full  sense  citizens,  and  the  author  speaks  as  if 
one  could  not  be  man  at  all  if  one  did  not  take  a  lively 
part  in  State  affairs,  i.  e.  if  one  were  not  a  politician.  In 
this  he  is  right;  for,  if  the  State  ranks  as  the  warder  of 
everything  "human,"  we  can  have  nothing  human  with- 
out taking  part  in  it.  But  what  does  this  make  out  against 
the  egoist?  Nothing  at  all,  because  the  egoist  is  to  him- 
self the  warder  of  the  human,  and  has  nothing  to  say  to 
the  State  except  "Get  out  of  my  sunshine."  Only  when 
the  State  comes  in  contact  with  his  ownness  does  the 
egoist  take  an  active  interest  in  it.  If  the  condition  of 
the  State  does  not  bear  hard  on  the  closet-philosopher, 
is  he  to  occupy  himself  with  it  because  it  is  his  "most 
sacred  duty"?  So  long  as  the  State  does  according  to 
his  wish,  what  need  has  he  to  look  up  from  his  studies? 
Let  those  who  from  an  interest  of  their  own  want  to  have 
conditions  otherwise  busy  themselves  with  them.  Not 
low,  nor  evermore,  will  "sacred  duty"  bring  folks  to 
reflect  about  the  State — as  little  as  they  become  disciples 
of  science,  artists,  etc.,  from  "sacred  duty."  Egoism 
alone  can  impel  them  to  it,  and  will  as  soon  as  things 
have  become  much  worse.  If  you  showed  folks  that 
their  egoism  demanded  that  they  busy  themselves  with 
State  affairs,  you  would  not  have  to  call  on  them  long ; 
if,  on  the  other  hand,  you  appeal  to  their  love  of  father- 
land and  the  like,  you  will  long  preach  to  deaf  hearts 
in  behalf  of  this  "service  of  love."    Certainly,  in  your 


THE  OWNER 


245 


sense  the  egoists  will  not  participate  in  State  affairs 
at  all. 

Nauwerk  utters  a  genuine  liberal  phrase  on  p.  16 :  ''Man 
completely  fulfils  his  calling  only  in  feeling  and  knowing 
himself  as  a  member  of  humanity,  and  being  active  as 
such.  The  individual  cannot  realize  the  idea  of  manhood 
if  he  does  not  stay  himself  upon  all  humanity,  if  he  does 
not  draw  his  powers  from  it  like  Antaeus." 

In  the  same  place  it  is  said:  ''Man's  relation  to  the 
res  publica  is  degraded  to  a  purely  private  matter  by  the 
theological  view;  is,  accordingly,  made  away  with  by 
denial.''  As  if  the  political  view  did  otherwise  with  relig- 
ion!   There  religion  is  a  "private  matter." 

If,  instead  of  "sacred  duty,"  "man's  destiny,"  the  "call- 
ing to  full  manhood,"  and  similar  commandments,  it 
were  held  up  to  people  that  their  self-interest  was  in- 
fringed on  when  they  let  everything  in  the  State  go  as  it 
goes,  then,  without  declamations,  they  would  be  ad- 
dressed as  one  will  have  to  address  them  at  the  decisive 
moment — if  he  wants  to  attain  his  end.  Instead  of  this, 
the  theology-hating  author  says,  "If  there  has  ever  been 
a  time  when  the  State  laid  claim  to  all  that  are  hers,  such 
a  time  is  ours. — The  thinking  man  sees  in  participation 
in  the  theory  and  practice  of  the  State  a  duty,  one  of 
the  most  sacred  duties  that  rest  upon  him" — and  then 
takes  under  closer  consideration  the  "unconditional  neces- 
sity that  everybody  participate  in  the  State." 

He  in  whose  head  or  heart  or  both  the  State  is  seated, 
he  who  is  possessed  by  the  State,  or  the  believer  in  the 
State ^  is  a  politician,  and  remains  such  to  all  eternity. 

"The  State  is  the  most  necessary  means  for  the  com- 
plete development  of  mankind."  It  assuredly  has  been 
so  as  long  as  we  wanted  to  develop  mankind ;  but,  if  we 
want  to  develop  ourselves,  it  can  be  to  us  only  a  means 
of  hindrance. 

Can  State  and  people  still  be  reformed  and  bettered 
now?  As  little  as  the  nobility,  the  clergy,  the  church, 
etc. :  they  can  be  abrogated,  annihilated,  done  away  with, 


246 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


not  reformed.  Can  I  change  a  piece  of  nonsense  into 
sense  by  reforming  it,  or  must  I  drop  it  outright? 

Henceforth  what  is  to  be  done  is  no  longer  about  the 
State  (the  form  of  the  State,  etc.),  but  about  me.  With 
this  all  questions  about  the  prince's  power,  the  constitu- 
tion, etc.,  sink  into  their  true  abyss  and  their  true  noth- 
ingness. I,  this  nothing,  shall  put  forth  my  creations 
from  myself. 

To  the  chapter  of  society  belongs  also  ''the  party,'' 
whose  praise  has  of  late  been  sung. 

In  the  State  the  party  is  current.  'Tarty,  party,  who 
should  not  join  one!"  But  the  individual  is  unique,"^ 
not  a  member  of  the  party.  He  unites  freely,  and  sepa- 
rates freely  again.  The  party  is  nothing  but  a  State  in 
the  State,  and  in  this  smaller  bee-State  "peace"  is  also  to 
rule  just  as  in  the  greater.  The  very  people  who  cry 
loudest  that  there  must  be  an  opposition  in  the  State  in- 
veigh against  every  discord  in  the  party.  A  proof  that 
they  too  want  only  a — State.  All  parties  are  shattered 
not  against  the  State,  but  against  the  ego.f 

One  hears  nothing  oftener  now  than  the  admonition 
to  remain  true  to  his  party ;  party  men  despise  nothing 
so  much  as  a  mugwump.  One  must  run  with  his  party 
through  thick  and  thin,  and  unconditionally  approve  and 
represent  its  chief  principles.  It  does  not  indeed  go  quite 
so  badly  here  as  with  closed  societies,  because  these  bind 
their  members  to  fixed  laws  or  statutes  (e.  g.  the  orders, 
the  Society  of  Jesus,  etc.).  But  yet  the  party  ceases  to 
be  a  union  at  the  same  moment  at  which  it  makes  certain 
principles  binding  and  wants  to  have  them  assured  against 
attacks;  but  this  moment  is  the  very  birth-act  of  the 
party.  As  party  it  is  already  a  born  society,  a  dead  union, 
an  idea  that  has  become  fixed.  As  party  of  absolutism  it 
cannot  will  that  its  members  should  doubt  the  irrefragable 
truth  of  this  principle ;  they  could  cherish  this  doubt  only 
if  they  were  egoistic  enough  to  want  still  to  be  something 


*  \ einzig] 


t  \am  Einzigen] 


THE  OWNER 


247 


outside  their  party,  i,  e.  non-partisans.  Non-partisan  they 
cannot  be  as  party-men,  but  only  as  egoists.  If  you  are 
a  Protestant  and  belong  to  that  party,  you  must  only 
justify  Protestantism,  at  most  ''purge''  it,  not  reject  it; 
if  you  are  a  Christian  and  belong  among  men  to  the  Chris- 
tian party,  you  cannot  go  beyond  this  as  a  member  of 
this  party,  but  only  when  your  egoism,  i,  e.  non-partisan- 
ship, impels  you  to  it.  What  exertions  the  Christians, 
down  to  Hegel  and  the  Communists,  have  put  forth  to 
make  their  party  strong !  they  stuck  to  it  that  Christianity 
must  contain  the  eternal  truth,  and  that  one  needs  only 
to  get  at  it,  make  sure  of  it,  and  justify  it. 

In  short,  the  party  cannot  bear  non-partisanship,  and 
it  is  in  this  that  egoism  appears.  What  matters  the  party 
to  me?  I  shall  find  enough  anyhow  who  unite  with  me 
without  swearing  allegiance  to  my  flag. 

He  who  passes  over  from  one  party  to  another  is  at 
once  abused  as  a  "turncoat."  Certainly  morality  demands 
that  one  stand  by  his  party ^  and  to  become  apostate  from 
it  is  to  spot  oneself  with  the  stain  of  ''faithlessness";  but 
ownness  knows  no  commandment  of  faithfulness,  ad- 
hesion, etc.,"  ownness  permits  everything,  even  apostasy, 
defection.  Unconsciously  even  the  moral  themselves  let 
themselves  be  led  by  this  principle  when  they  have  to 
judge  one  who  passes  over  to  their  party — nay,  they  are 
likely  to  be  making  proselytes;  they  should  only  at  the 
same  time  acquire  a  consciousness  of  the  fact  that  one 
must  commit  immoral  actions  in  order  to  commit  his  own 
— i.  e.  here,  that  one  must  break  faith,  yes,  even  his  oath, 
in  order  to  determine  himself  instead  of  being  determined 
by  moral  considerations.  In  the  eyes  of  people  of  strict 
moral  judgment  an  apostate  always  shimmers  in  equivocal 
colors,  and  will  not  easily  obtain  their  confidence;  for 
there  sticks  to  him  the  taint  of  "faithlessness,"  i.  e,  of  an 
immorality.  In  the  lower  man  this  view  is  found  almost 
generally;  advanced  thinkers  fall  here  too,  as  always, 
into  an  uncertainty  and  bewilderment,  and  the  contra- 
diction necessarily  founded  in  the  principle  of  morality 
does  not,  on  account  of  the  confusion  of  their  concepts^ 


248 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


come  clearly  to  their  consciousness.  They  do  not  ven- 
ture to  call  the  apostate  immoral  downright,  because  they 
themselves  entice  to  apostasy,  to  defection  from  one 
religion  to  another,  etc. ;  still,  they  cannot  give  up  the 
standpoint  of  morality  either.  And  yet  here  the  occasion 
was  to  be  seized  to  step  outside  of  morality. 

Are  the  Own  or  Unique"^  perchance  a  party?  How 
could  they  be  own  if  they  were  such  as  belonged  to  a 
party  ? 

Or  is  one  to  hold  with  no  party?  In  the  very  act  of 
joning  them  and  entering  their  circle  one  forms  a  union 
with  them  that  lasts  as  long  as  party  and  I  pursue  one 
and  the  same  goal.  But  to-day  I  still  share  the  party's 
tendency,  and  by  to-morrow  I  can  do  so  no  longer  and 
I  become  ''untrue"  to  it.  The  party  has  nothing  binding 
(obligatory)  for  me,  and  I  do  not  have  respect  for  it; 
if  it  no  longer  pleases  me,  I  become  its  foe. 

In  every  party  that  cares  for  itself  and  its  persistence, 
the  members  are  unfree  (or  better,  unown)  in  that  de- 
gree, they  lack  egoism  in  that  degree,  in  which  they 
serve  this  desire  of  the  party.  The  independence  of  the 
party  conditions  the  lack  of  independence  in  the  party- 
members. 

A  party,  of  whatever  kind  it  may  be,  can  never  do 
without  a  confession  of  faith.  For  those  who  belong  to 
the  party  must  believe  in  its  principle,  it  must  not  be 
brought  in  doubt  or  put  in  question  by  them,  it  must  be 
the  certain,  indubitable  thing  for  the  partv'-member.  That 
is :  One  must  belong  to  a  party  body  and  soul,  else  one 
is  not  truly  a  party-man,  but  more  or  less — an  egoist. 
Harbor  a  doubt  of  Christianity,  and  you  are  already  no 
longer  a  true  Christian,  you  have  lifted  yourself  to  the 
''effrontery"  of  putting  a  question  beyond  it  and  haling 
Christianity  before  your  egoistic  judgment-seat.  You 
have — sinned  against  Christianity,  this  party  cause  (for 
it  is  surely  not  e.  g.  a  cause  for  the  Jews,  another  partvO. 
But  well  for  you  if  you  do  not  let  yourself  be  affrighted : 
your  effrontery  helps  you  to  ownness. 
[Einzig enl 


THE  OWNER 


249 


So  then  an  egoist  could  never  embrace  a  party  or 
take  up  with  a  party?  Oh,  yes,  only  he  cannot  let  him- 
self be  embraced  and  taken  up  by  the  party.  For  him  the 
party  remains  all  the  time  nothing  but  a  gathering:  he 
is  one  of  the  party,  he  takes  part. 

The  best  State  will  clearly  be  that  which  has  the  most 
loyal  citizens,  and  the  more  the  devoted  mind  for  legality 
is  lost,  so  much  the  more  will  the  State,  this  system  of 
morality,  this  moral  life  itself,  be  diminished  in  force  and 
quality.  With  the  ''good  citizens"  the  good  State  too 
perishes  and  dissolves  into  anarchy  and  lawlessness.  ''Re- 
spect for  the  law By  this  cement  the  total '  of  the 
State  . is  held  together.  "The  law  is  sacred,  and  he  who 
affronts  it  a  criminal/'  Without  crime  no  State:  the 
moral  world — and  this  the  State  is — is  crammed  full  of 
scamps,  cheats,  liars,  thieves,  etc.  Since  the  State  is 
the  "lordship  of  law,''  its  hierarchy,  it  follows  that  the 
egoist,  in  all  cases  where  his  advantage  runs  against  the 
State's,  can  satisfy  himself  only  by  crime. 

The  State  cannot  give  up  the  claim  that  its  laws  and 
ordiances  are  sacred."^  At  this  the  individual  ranks  as 
l\ie  unholyt  (barbarian,  natural  man,  "egoist")  over 
against  the  State,  exactly  as  he  was  once  regarded  by  the 
Church;  before  the  individual  the  State  takes  on  the 
nimbus  of  a  saint. :|:  Thus  it  issues  a  law  against  dueling. 
Two  men  who  are  both  at  one  in  this,  that  they  are  will- 
ing to  stake  their  life  for  a  cause  (no  matter  what),  are 
not  to  be  allowed  this,  because  the  State  will  not  have 
it:  it  imposes  a  penalty  on  it.  Where  is  the  liberty  of 
self-determination  then  ?  It  is  at  once  quite  another  situa- 
tion if,  as  e.  g.  in  North  America,  society  determines  to 
let  the  duelists  bear  certain  evil  consequences  of  their  act, 
e.  g.  withdrawal  of  the  credit  hitherto  enjoyed.  To  re- 
fuse credit  is  everybody's  affair,  and,  if  a  society  wants 
to  withdraw  it  for  this  or  that  reason,  the  man  who  is 
hit  cannot  therefore  complain  of  encroachment  on  his  lib- 


*  [heilig] 


t  [unheilig]  %  [Heiliger] 


250 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


erty:  the  society  is  simply  availing  itself  of  its  own  lib- 
erty. That  is  no  penalty  for  sin,  no  penalty  for  a  crime. 
The  duel  is  no  crime  there,  but  only  an  act  against  which 
the  society  adopts  counter-measures,  resolves  on  a  de- 
fence. The  State,  on  the  contrary,  stamps  the  duel  as  a 
crime;  i.  e.  as  an  injury  to  its  sacred  law:  it  makes  it  a 
criminal  case.  The  society  leaves  it  to  the  individual's 
decision  whether  he  will  draw  upon  himself  evil  conse- 
quences and  inconveniences  by  his  mode  of  action,  and 
hereby  recognizes  his  free  decision;  the  State  behaves  in 
exactly  the  reverse  way,  denying  all  right  to  the  individ- 
ual's decision  and,  instead,  ascribing  the  sole  right  to 
its  own  decision,  the  law  of  the  State,  so  that  he  who 
transgresses  the  State's  commandment  is  looked  upon 
as  if  he  were  acting  against  God's  commandment — a  view 
which  likewise  was  once  maintained  by  the  Church.  Here 
God  is  the  Holy  in  and  of  himself,  and  the  command- 
ments of  the  Church  as  of  the  State,  are  the  command- 
ments of  this  Holy  One,  which  he  transmits  to  the  world 
through  his  anointed  and  Lords-by-the-Grace-of-God.  If 
the  Church  had  deadly  sins,  the  State  has  capital  crimes; 
if  the  one  had  heretics,  the  other  has  traitors ;  the  one 
ecclesiastical  penalties,  the  other  criminal  penalties:  the 
one  inquisitorial  processes,  the  other  fiscal;  in  short,  there 
sins,  here  crimes,  there  sinners,  here  criminals,  there  in- 
quisition and  here — inquisition.  Will  the  sanctity  of  the 
State  not  fall  like  the  Church's?  The  awe  of  its  laws, 
the  reverence  for  its  highness,  the  humility  of  its  "sub- 
jects," will  this  remain?  Will  the  "saint's"  face  not  be 
stripped  of  its  adornment  ? 

Wliat  a  folly,  to  ask  of  the  State's  authority  that  it 
should  enter  into  an  honorable  fight  with  the  individual, 
and,  as  they  express  themselves  m  the  matter  of  freedom 
of  the  press,  share  sun  and  wind  equally.  If  the  State, 
this  thought,  is  to  be  a  de  facto  pozver,  it  simply  must  be 
a  superior  power  against  the  individual.  The  State  is 
"sacred"  and  must  not  expose  itself  to  the  "impudent 
attacks"  of  individuals.  If  the  State  is  sacred,  there 
must  be  censorship.    The  political  liberals  admit  the  for- 


THE  OWNER 


251 


mer  and  dispute  fthe  inference.  But  in  any  case  they 
concede  repressive  measures  to  it,  for — they  stick  to  this, 
that  State  is  more  than  the  individual  and  exercises  a 
justified  revenge,  called  punishment. 

Punishment  has  a  meaning  only  when  it  is  to  afford 
expiation  for  the  injuring  of  a  sacred  thing.  If  some- 
thing is  sacred  to  any  one,  he  certainly  deserves  punish- 
ment when  he  acts  as  its  enemy.  A  man  who  lets  a 
man's  life  continue  in  existence  because  to  him  it  is  sa- 
cred and  he  has  a  dread  of  touching  it  is  simply  a — 
religious  man. 

Weitling  lays  crime  at  the  door  of  "social  disorder/' 
and  lives  in  the  expectation  that  under  Communistic 
arrangements  crimes  will  become  impossible  because  the 
temptations  to  them,  e.  g.  money,  fall  away.  As,  how- 
ever, his  organized  society  is  also  exalted  into  a  sacred 
and  inviolable  one,  he  miscalculates  in  that  good-hearted 
opinion.  Such  as  with  their  mouth  professed  allegiance 
to  the  Communistic  society,  but  worked  underhand  for 
its  ruin,  would  not  be  lacking.  Besides,  Weitling,  has 
to  keep  on  with  "curative  means  against  the  natural  re- 
mainder of  human  diseases  and  weaknesses,''  and  "cura- 
tive means"  always  announce  to  begin  with  that  individ- 
uals will  be  looked  upon  as  "called"  to  a  particular  "sal- 
vation/'  and  hence  treated  according  to  the  requirements 
of  this  "human  calling."  Curative  means  or  healing  is 
only  the  reverse  side  of  punishment,  the  theory  of  cure 
runs  parallel  with  the  theory  of  punishment ;  if  the  latter 
sees  in  an  action  a  sin  against  right,  the  former  takes 
it  for  a  sin  of  the  man  against  himself,  as  a  decadence 
from  his  health.  But  the  correct  thing  is  that  I  regard 
it  either  as  an  action  that  suits  me  or  as  one  that  does 
not  suit  me,  as  hostile  or  friendly  to  me,  i.  e.  that  I  treat 
it  as  my  property,  which  I  cherish  or  demolish.  "Crime" 
or  "disease"  are  not  either  of  them  an  egoistic  view  of 
the  matter,  i,  e.  a  judgment  starting  from  me,  but  start- 
ing from  another — to  wit,  whether  it  injures  right,  gen- 
eral right,  or 'the  health  partly  of  the  individual  (the  sick 
one),  partly  of  the  generality  (society).    "Crime"  is 


252  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


treated  inexorably,  ''disease"  with  ''loving  gentleness^ 
compassion,"  and  the  like. 

Punishment  follows  crime,  li  crime  falls  because  the 
sacred  vanishes,  punishment  must  not  less  be  drawn  into 
it  fall ;  for  it  too  has  significance  only  over  against  some- 
thing sacred.  Ecclesiastical  punishments  have  been  abol- 
ished. Why?  Because  how  one  behaves  toward  the 
"holy  God"  is  his  own  affair.  But,  as  this  one  punish- 
ment, ecclesiastical  punishment^  has  fallen,  so  all  punish- 
ments must  fall.  As  sin  against  the  so-called  God  is  a 
man's  own  affair,  so  that  against  every  kind  of  the  so- 
called  sacred.  According  to  our  theories  of  penal  law, 
with  whose  "improvement  in  conformity  to  the  times" 
people  are  tormenting  themselves  in  vain,  they  want  to 
punish  men  for  this  or  that  "inhumanity" ;  and  therein 
they  make  the  silliness  of  these  theories  especially  plain 
by  their  consistency,  hanging  the  little  thieves  and  let- 
ting the  big  ones  run.  For  injury  to  property  they  have 
the  house  of  correction,  and  for  "violence  to  thought/' 
suppression  of  "natural  rights  of  man,"  only— represen- 
tations and  petitions. 

The  criminal  code  has  continued  existence  only  through 
the  sacred,  and  perishes  of  itself  if  punishment  is  given 
up.  Now  they  want  to  create  everywhere  a  new  penal 
law,  without  indulging  in  a  misgiving  about  punishment 
itself.  But  it  is  exactly  punishment  that  must  make  room 
for  satisfaction,  which,  again,  cannot  aim  at  satisfying 
right  or  justice,  but  at  procuring  ^ls  a  satisfactory  out- 
come. If  one  does  to  us  what  we  will  not  put  up  with, 
we  break  his  power  and  bring  our  own  to  bear :  we  sat- 
isfy ourselves  on  him,  and  do  not  fall  into  the  folly  of 
wanting  to  satisfy  right  (the  spook).  It  is  not  the  sacred 
that  is  to  defend  itself  against  man,  but  man  against 
man;  as  God  too,  you  know,  no  longer  defends  himself 
against  man,  God  to  whom  formerly  (and  in  part,  indeed, 
even  now)  all  the  "servants  of  God"  offered  their  hands 
to  punish  the  blasphemer,  as  they  still  at  this  very  day 
lend  their  hands  to  the  sacred.  This  devotion  to  the 
secred  brings  it  to  pass  also  that,  without  lively  partici- 


THE  OWNER 


253 


pation  of  one's  own,  one  only  delivers  misdoers  into  the 
hands  of  the  police  and  courts :  a  non-participating  mak- 
ing over  to  the  authorities,  "who,  of  course,  will  best 
administer  sacred  matters/'  The  people  is  quite  crazy 
for  hounding  the  police  on  against  everything  that  seems 
to  it  to  be  immoral,  often  only  unseemly,  and  this  pop- 
ular rage  for  the  moral  protects  the  police  institution 
more  than  the  government  could  in  any  way  protect  it. 

In  crime  the  egoist  has  hitherto  asserted  himself  and 
mocked  at  the  sacred ;  the  break  with  the  sacred,  or  rather 
of  the  sacred,  may  become  general.  A  revolution  never 
returns,  but  a  mighty,  reckless,  shameless,  conscienceless, 
proud — crime,  does  it  not  rumble  in  distant  thunders, 
and  do  you  not  see  how  the  sky  grows  presciently  silent 
and  gloomy? 

He  who  refuses  to  spend  his  powers  for  such  limited 
societies  as  family,  party,  nation,  is  still  always  longing 
for  a  worthier  society,  and  thinks  he  has  found  the  true 
object  of  love,  perhaps,  in  ''human  society"  or  ''mankind," 
to  sacrifice  himself  to  which  constitutes  his  honor ;  from 
now  on  he  "lives  for  and  serves  mankind/' 

People  is  the  name  of  the  body,  State  of  the  spirit, 
of  that  ruling  person  that  has  hitherto  suppressed  me. 
Some  have  wanted  to  transfigure  peoples  and  States  by 
broadening  them  out  to  "mankind"  and  "general  reason" ; 
but  servitude  would  only  become  still  more  intense  with 
this  widening,  and  philanthropists  and  humanitarians  are 
as  absolute  masters  as  politicians  and  diplomats. 

Modern  critics  inveigh  against  religion  because  it  sets 
God,  the  divine,  moral,  etc.,  outside  of  man,  or  makes  them 
something  objective,  in  opposition  to  which  the  critics 
rather  transfer  these  very  subjects  into  man.  But  those 
critics  none  the  less  fall  into  the  proper  error  of  religion, 
to  give  man  a  "destiny,"  in  that  they  too  want  to  have 
him  divine,  human,  and  the  like ;  morality,  freedom  and 
humanity,  etc.,  are  his  essence.  And  like  religion,  poli- 
tics too  wanted  to  ''educate"  man,  to  bring  him  to  the 
realization  of  his  "essence,"  his  "destiny,"  to  make  some- 


254 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


thing  out  of  'him — to  wit,  a  ''true  man,"  the  one  in  the 
form  of  the  ''true  believer,"  the  other  in  that  of  the  "true 
citizen  or  subject."  In  fact,  it  comes  to  the  same  whether 
one  calls  the  destiny  the  divine  or  human. 

Under  religion  and  politics  man  finds  himself  at  the 
standpoint  of  should:  he  should  become  this  and  that, 
should  be  so  and  so.  With  this  postulate,  this  command- 
ment, every  one  steps  not  only  in  front  of  another  but 
also  in  front  of  himself.  Those  critics  say:  You  should 
be  a  whole,  free  man.  Thus  they  too  stand  in  the  temp- 
tation to  proclaim  a  new  religion,  to  set  up  a  new  abso- 
lute, an  ideal — to  wit,  freedom.  Men  should  be  free. 
Then  there  might  even  arise  missionaries  of  freedom,  as 
Christianity,  in  the  conviction  that  all  were  properly 
destined  to  become  Christians,  sent  out  missionaries  of 
the  faith.  Freedom  would  then  (as  have  hitherto  faith 
as  Church,  morality  as  State)  constitute  itself  as  a  new 
community  and  carry  on  a  like  "propaganda"  therefrom. 
Certainly  no  objection  can  be  raised  against  a  getting 
together;  but  so  much  the  more  must  one  oppose  every 
renewal  of  the  old  care  for  us,  of  culture  directed  toward 
an  end — in  short,  the  principle  of  making  something  out 
of  us,  no  matter  whether  Christians,  subjects,  or  free- 
men and  men. 

One  may  well  say  with  Feuerbach  and  others  that 
religion  has  displaced  the  human  from  man,  and  has 
transferred  it  so  into  another  world  that,  unattainable, 
it  went  on  with  its  own  existence  there  as  something  per- 
sonal in  itself,  as  a  "God":  but  the  error  of  religion  is 
by  no  means  exhausted  with  this.  One  might  very  well 
let  fall  the  personality  of  the  displaced  human,  might 
transform  God  into  the  divine,  and  still  remain  religious. 
For  the  religious  consists  in  discontent  with  the  present 
man,  i.  e.  in  the  setting  up  of  a  "perfection"  to  be  striven 
for,  in  "man  wrestling  for  his  completion."*  ("Ye 
therefore  should  be  perfect  as  your  father  in  heaven  is 
perfect."    Matt.  5.  48)  :  it  consists  in  the  fixation  of  an 


*  B.  Bauer,  ''Lit.  Ztg^  8,  22. 


THE  OWNER 


255 


ideal,  an  absolute.  Perfection  is  the  ''supreme  good," 
the  finis  bonorum;  every  one's  ideal  is  the  perfect  man, 
the  true,  the  free  man,  etc. 

The  efforts  of  modern  times  aim  to  set  up  the  ideal 
of  the  "free  man.''  If  one  could  find  it,  there  would  be 
a  new — religion,  because  a  new  ideal;  there  would  be  a 
new  longing,  a  new  torment,  a  new  devotion,  a  new  deity, 
a  new  contrition. 

With  the  ideal  of  "absolute  liberty/'  the  same  turmoil 
is  made  as  with  everything  absolute,  and  according  to 
Hess,  e,  g.,  it  is  said  to  "be  realizable  in  absolute  human 
society."'^  Nay,  this  realization  is  immediately  afterward 
styled  a  "vocation";  just  so  he  then  defines  ftberty  as 
"morality" :  the  kingdom  of  "justice"  (i.  e,  equality)  and 
"morality"  (i.  e,  liberty)  is  to  begin,  etc. 

Ridiculous  is  he  who,  while  fellows  of  his  tribe,  family, 
nation,  etc.,  rank  high,  is — nothing  but  "puffed  up"  over 
the  merit  of  his  fellows ;  but  blinded  too  is  he  who  wants 
only  to  be  "man."  Neither  of  them  puts  his  worth  in 
exclusiveness,  but  in  connectedness,  or  in  the  "tie"that 
conjoins  him  with  others,  in  the  ties  of  blood,  of  nation- 
ality, of  humanity. 

Through  the  "Nationals"  of  to-day  the  conflict  has 
again  been  stirred  up  between  those  who  think  them- 
selves to  have  merely  human  blood  and  human  ties  of 
blood,  and  the  others  who  brag  of  their  special  'blood  and 
the  special  ties  of  blood. 

If  we  disregard  the  fact  that  pride  may  mean  conceit, 
and  take  it  for  consciousness  alone,  there  is  found  to  be 
a  vast  difference  between  pride  in  "belonging  to"  a  nation 
and  therefore  being  its  property,  and  that  in  calling  a 
nationality  one's  property.  Nationality  is  my  quality,  but 
the  nation 'my  owner  and  mistress.  If  you  have  bodily 
strength,  you*can  apply  it  at  a  suitable  place  and  have 
a  self -consciousness  of  pride  of  it;  if,  on  the  contrary, 
your  strong  body  has  you,  then  it  pricks  you  everywhere, 
and  at  the  most  unsuitable  place,  to  show  its  strength : 
you  can  give  nobody  your  hand  without  squeezing  him. 

*       u.  Z.  B.r  p.  89  ff . 


256 


THE  EGO  AND  HES  OWN 


The  perception  that  one  is  more  than  a  member  of 
the  family,  more  than  a  fellow  of  the  tribe,  more  than 
an  individual  of  the  people,  etc.^  has  finally  led  to  saying, 
one  is  more  fhan  all  this  because  one  is  man,  or  the  man* 
is  more  than  the  Jew,  German,  etc.  ''Therefore  be  every 
one  wholly  and  solely — man!"  Could  one  not  rather 
say:  Because  we  are  more  than  what  has  been  stated, 
therefore  we  will  be  this,  as  well  as  that  ''more"  also? 
Man  and  German,  then,  man  and  Guelph,  etc.?  The 
Nationals  are  in  the  right;  one  cannot  deny  his  nation- 
ality: and  the 'humanitarians  are  in  the  right;  one  must 
not  remain  in  the  narrowness  of  the  national.  In  unique^ 
iiess^  the  contradiction  is  solved ;  the  national  is  my  qual- 
ity. But  I  am  not  swallowed  up  in  my  quality — as  the 
human  too  is  my  quality,  but  I  give  to  man  his  existence 
'first  through  my  uniqueness. 

History  seeks  for  Man:  but  he  is  I,  you,  we.  Sought 
as  a  mysterious  essence,  as  the  divine,  first  as  God^  then 
as  Man  (humanity,  humaneness,  and  mankind),  he  is 
found  as  the  individual,  the  finite,  the  unique  one. 

I  am  owner  of  humanity,  am  humanity,  and  do  nothing 
for  the  good  of  another  humanity.  Fool,  you  who  are 
a  unique  humanity,  that  you  make  a  merit  of  wanting  to 
live  for  another  than  you  are. 

The  hitherto-considered  relation  of  me  to  the  world  of 
men  offers  such  a  wealth  of  phenomena  that  it  will  have 
to  be  taken  up  again  and  again  on  other  occasions,  but 
here,  where  it  was  only  to  have  its  chief  outlines  made 
clear  to  the  eye,  it  must  be  broken  off  to  make  place  for 
an  apprehension  of  two  other  sides  toward  which  it  radi- 
ates. For,  as  I  find  myself  in  relation  not  merely  to  men 
so  far  as  they  present  in  themselves  the  concept  "man'' 
or  are  children  of  men  (children  of  Man,  as  children  of 
God  are  spoken  of),  but  also  to  that  which  they  have  of 
man  and  call  their  own,  and  as  therefore  I  relate  myself 
not  only  to  that  which  they  are  through  man,  but  also  to 
their  human  possessions:  so,  beside^,  the  world  of  men, 
the  world  of  the  senses  and  of  ideas  will  have  to  be  in- 

*  [Einzigkeit] 


THE  OWNER 


257 


eluded  in  our  survey,  and  somewhat  said  of  what  men 
call  their  own  of  sensuous  goods,  and  of  spiritual  as  well. 

According  as  one  had  developed  and  clearly  grasped 
the  concept  of  man,  he  gave  it  to  us  to  respect  as  this 
or  that  person  of  respect,  and  from  the  broadest  under- 
standing of  this  concept  there  proceeded  at  last  the  com- 
mand ''to  respect  Man  in  every  one/'  But,  if  I  respect 
Man,  my  respect  must  likewise  extend  to  the  human,  or 
what  is  Man's. 

Men  have  somewhat  of  their  own,  and  /  am  to  recog- 
nize this  own  and  hold  it  sacred.  Their  own  consists 
partly  in  outward,  partly  in  inward  possessions.  The 
former  are  things,  the  latter  spiritualities,  thoughts,  con- 
victions, noble  feelings,  etc.  But  I  am  always  to  respect 
only  rightful  or  human  possessions ;  the  wrongful  and 
unhuman  I  need  not  spare,  for  only  Mans  own  is  men's 
real  own.  An  inward  possession  of  this  sort  is,  e.  g,, 
religion ;  because  religion  is  free,  i.  e.  is  Man's,  /  must 
not  strike  at  it.  Just  so  honor  is  an  inward  possession ; 
it  is  free  and  must  not  be  struck  at  by  me.  (Action  for 
insult,  caricatures,  etc.)  Religion  and  honor  are  ''spiritual 
property."  Intangible  property  the  person  stands  fore- 
most: my  person  is  my  first  property.  Hence  freedom 
of  the  person ;  but  only  the  rightful  or  human  person  is 
free,  the  other  is  locked  up.  Your  life  is  your  property ; 
but  it  is  sacred  for  men  only  if  it  is  not  that  of  an  in- 
human monster. 

What  a  man  as  such  cannot  defend  of  bodily  goods, 
we  may  take  from  .him :  this  is  the  meaning  of  competi- 
tion, of  freedom  of  occupation.  What  he  cannot  defend 
of  spiritual  good  falls  a  prey  to  us  likewise :  so  far  goes 
the  liberty  of  discussion,  of  science,  of  criticism. 

But  consecrated  goods  are  inviolable.  Consecrated 
and  guaranteed  by  whom?  Proximately  by  the  State, 
society,  but  properly  by  man  or  the  "concept,"  the  "con- 
cept of  the  thing" :  for  the  concept  of  consecrated  goods 
is  this,  that  they  are  truly  human,  or  rather  that  the 
holder  possesses  them  as  man  and  not  as  un-man.* 

*  [See  note  on  p.  148.] 


258 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


On  the  spiritual  side  man's  faith  is  such  goods,  his 
honor,  his  moral  feeling — yes,  his  feeling  of  decency, 
modesty,  etc.  Actions  (speeches,  writings)  that  touch 
honor  are  punishable;  attacks  on  ''the  foundation  of  all 
religion'' ;  attacks  on  political  faith ;  in  short,  attacks  on 
everything  that  a  man  ''righly''  has. 

How  far  critical  liberalism  would  extend  the  sanctity 
of  goods — on  this  point  it  has  not  yet  made  any  pro- 
nouncement, and  doubtless  fancies  itself  to  be  ill-disposed 
toward  all  sanctity;  but,  as  it  combats  egoism,  it  must  set 
limits  to  it,  and  must  not  let  the  un-man  pounce  on  the 
human.  To  its  theoretical  contempt  for  the  ''masses'' 
there  .must  correspond  a  practical  snub  if  it  should  get 
into  power. 

What  extension  the  concept  "man"  receives,  and  what 
comes  to  the  individual  man  through  it — what,  therefore, 
man  and  the  human  are — on  this  point  the  various  grades 
of  liberalism  differ,  and  the  political,  the  social,  the 
humane  man  are  each  always  claiming  more  than  the  other 
for  "man."  He  who  has  best  grasped  this  concept  knows 
best  what  is  "man's."  The  State  still  grasps  this  con- 
cept in  political  restriction,  society  in  social ;  mankind, 
so  it  is  said,  is  the  first  to  comprehend  it  entirely,  or 
"the  history  of  mankind  develops  it."  But,  if  "man  is 
discovered,"  then  we  know  also  what  pertains  to  man 
as  his  own,  man's  property,  the  human. 

But  let  the  individual  man  lay  claim  to  ever  so  many 
rights  because  Man  -or  the  concept  man  "entitles"  him 
to  them,  i.  e.  because  his  .being  man  does  it :  what  do  / 
care  for  his  right  and  his  claim?  H  he  has  his  right 
only  from  Man  and  does  not  have  it  from  me,  then  for 
me  he  has  no  right.  His  life,  e.  g.,  counts  to  me  only  for 
what  it  is  worth  to  me.  I  respect  neither  a  so-called 
right  of  property  (or  his  claim  to  tangible  goods)  nor 
yet  his  right  to  the  "sanctuary  of  his  inner  nature"  (or 
gods,  remain  unaggrieved).  His  goods,  the  sensuous  as 
gods,  remain  unaggrieved).  His  gt>ods,  the  sensuous  as 
well  as  the  spiritual,  are  mine,  and  I  dispose  of  them  as 
proprietor,  in  the  measure  of  my — might. 


THE  OWNER 


259 


In  the  property  question  lies  a  broader  meaning  than 
the  limited  statement  of  the  question  allows  to  be  brought 
out.  Referred  solely  to  what  men  call  our  possessions, 
it  is  capable  of  no  solution;  the  decision  is  to  be  found 
only  in  him  ''from  whom  we  have  everything/'  Prop- 
erty depends  on  the  owner. 

The  Revolution  directed  its  weapons  against  every- 
thing which  came  ''from  the  grace  of  God/'  e.  g.,  against 
divine  right,  in  whose  place  the  human  was  confirmed. 
To  that  which  is  granted  by  the  grace  of  God,  there  is  op- 
posed that  which  is  derived  "from  the  essence  of  man/' 

Now,  as  men's  relation  to  each  other,  in  opposition  to 
the  religious  dogma  which  commands  a  "Love  one  an- 
other for  God's  sake,"  had  to  receive  its  human  position 
by  a  "Love  each  other  for  man's  sake,"  so  the  revolu- 
tionary teaching  could  not  do  otherwise  than,  first  as  to 
what  concerns  the  relation  of  men  to  the  things  of  this 
world,  settle  it  that  the  world,  which  hitherto  was  ar- 
ranged acording  to  God's  ordinance,  henceforth  belongs 
to  "Man/' 

The  world  belongs  to  "Man/'  and  is  to  be  respected  by 
me  as  his  property. 

Property  is  what  is  mine ! 

Property  in  the  civic  sense  means  sacred  property,  such 
that  I  must  respect  your  property.  "Respect  for  prop- 
erty!" Hence  the  politicians  would  like  to  have  every 
one  possess  his  little  bit  of  property,  and  they  have  in 
part  brought  about  an  incredible  parcellation  by  this 
effort.  Each  must  have  his  bone  on  which  he  may  find 
something  to  bite. 

The  position  of  aflfairs  is  different  in  the  egoistic  sense. 
I  do  not  step  shyly  back  from  your  property,  but  look 
upon  it  always  as  my  property,  in  which  I  used  to  "re- 
spect" nothing.  Pray  do  the  like  with  what  you  call 
my  property ! 

With  this  view  we  shall  most  easily  come  to  an  under- 
standing with  each  other. 

The  poHtical  liberals  are  anxious  that,  if  possible,  all 
servitudes  be  dissolved,  and  every  one  be  free  lord  on  his 


260 


THE  EGO  AND  HIIS  OWN 


ground,  even  if  this  ground  has  only  so  much  area  as 
can  have  its  requirements  adequately  filled  by  the  manure 
of  one  person.  (The  farmer  in  the  story  married  even 
in  his  old  age  *'that  he  might  profit  by  his  wife's  dung/') 
Be  it  ever  so  little,  if  one  only  has  somewhat  of  his  own 
— to  wit,  a  respected  property!  The  more  such  owners, 
such  cotters,'^  the  more  ''free  people  and  good  patriots" 
has  the  State. 

Political  liberalism,  like  everything  religious,  counts  on 
respect,  humaneness,  the  virtues  of  love.  Therefore  does 
It  live  in  incessant  vexation.  For  in  practice  people  re- 
spect nothing,  and  every  day  the  small  possessions  are 
bought  up  again  by  greater  proprietors,  and  the  ''free 
people"  change  into  day-laborers. 

If,  on  the  contrary,  the  "small  proprietors"  had  re- 
flected that  the  great  property  was  also  theirs,  they  would 
not  have  respectfully  shut  themselves  out  from  it,  and 
would  not  have  been  shut  out. 

Property  as  the  civic  liberals  understand  it  deserves 
the  attacks  of  the  Communists  and  Proudhon ;  it  is  unten- 
able, because  the  civic  proprietor  is  in  truth  nothing  but 
a  propertyless  man,  one  who  is  everywhere  shut  out.  In- 
stead of  owning  the  world,  as  he  might,  he  does  not  own 
even  the  paltry  point  on  which  he  turns  around. 

Proudhon  wants  not  the  proprietaire  but  the  posses- 
seur  or  usufruitier.'f  What  does  that  mean?  He  wants 
no  one  to  own  the  land ;  but  the  benefit  of  it — even 
though  one  were  allowed  only  the  hundredth  part  of  this 
benefit,  this  fruit — is  at  any  rate  one's  property,  which 
he  can  dispose  of  at  will.  He  who  had  only  the  benefit 
of  a  field  is  assuredly  not  the  proprietor  of  it;  still  less 
he  who,  as  Proudhon  would  have  it,  must  give  up  so 
much  of  this  benefit  as  is  not  required  for  his  wants ;  but 
he  is  the  proprietor  of  the  share  that  is  left  him.  Proud- 
hon, therefore,  denies  only  such  and  such  property,  not 
property  itself.    If  we  want  no  longer  to  leave  the  land 


*  [The  words  "cof  and  ''dung"  are  alike  in  German.] 
t  E.  g.,  ''Qu'est-ce  que  la  Propriete/'  p.  83. 


THE  OWNER 


261 


to  the  landed  proprietors,  but  to  appropriate  it  to  our* 
selves,  we  unite  ourselves  to  this  end,  form  a  union,  a 
societe,  that  makes  itself  proprietor;  if  we  have  good 
luck  in  this,  then  those  persons  cease  to  be  landed  prop- 
rietors. And,  as  from  the  land,  so  we  can  drive  them 
out  of  many  another  property  yet,  in  order  to  make  it 
our  property,  the  property  of  the — conquerors.  The 
conquerors  form  a  society  which  one  may  imagine  so 
great  that  it  by  degrees  embraces  all  humanity ;  but  so- 
called  humanity  too  is  as  such  only  a  thought  (spook)  ; 
the  individuals  are  its  reality.  And  these  individuals  as 
a  collective  mass  will  treat  land  and  earth  not  less  arbitra- 
rily than  an  isolated  individual  or  so-called  proprietaire. 
Even  so,  therefore,  property  remains  standing,  and  that 
as  '^exclusive''  too,  in  that  humanity,  this  great  society, 
excludes  the  individual  from  its  property  (perhaps  only 
leases  to  him,  gives  him  as  a  fief,  a  piece  of  it)  as  it 
besides  excludes  everything  that  is  not  humanity,  e.  g. 
does  not  allow  animals  to  have  property.  So  too  it  will 
remain,  and  will  grow  to  be.  That  in  which  all  want  to 
have  a  share  will  be  withdrawn  from  that  individual  who 
wants  to  have  it  for  himself  alone :  it  is  made  a  common 
estate.  As  a  common , estate  every  one  has  his  share  in 
it,  and  this  share  is  his  property.  Why,  so  in  our  old 
relations  a  house  which  belongs  to  five  heirs  is  their  com- 
mon estate ;  but  the  fifth  part  of  the  revenue  is  each  one's 
property.  Proudhon  might  spare  his  prolix  pathos  if 
he  said:  ''There  are  some  things  that  belong  only  to  a 
few,  and  to  which  we  others  will  from  now  on  lay  claim 
or  — siege.  Let  us  take  them,  because  one  comes  to 
property  by  taking,  and  the  property  of  which  for  the 
present  we  are  still  deprived  came  to  the  proprietors  like- 
wise only  by  taking.  It  can  be  utilized  better  if  it  is  in 
the  hands  of  us  all  than  if  the  few  control  it.  Let  us 
therefore  associate  ourselves  for  the  purpose  of  this  rob- 
bery (vol),'' — Instead  of  this,  he  tries  to  get  us  to  believe 
that  society  is  the  original  possessor  and  the  sole  proprie- 
tor, of  imprescriptible  right;  against  it  the  so-called  pro- 
prietors have  become  thieves  (La  propriete  c'est  le  vol); 


262 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


if  it  now  deprives  of  his  property  the  present  proprietor, 
it  robs  him  of  nothing,  as  it  is  only  avaiHng  itself  of  its 
imprescriptible  right.  So  far  one  comes  with  the  spook 
of  society  as  a  moral  person.  On  the  contrary,  what 
man  can  obtain  belongs  to  him :  the  world  belongs  to  me. 
Do  you  say  anything  else  by  your  opposite  proposition, 
''The  world  belongs  to  ö//"f  All  are  I  and  again  I,  etc. 
But  you  make  out  of  the  ''all''  a  spook,  and  make  it 
sacred,  so  that  then  the  "all''  become  the  individual's  fear- 
ful master.  Then  the  ghost  of  "right"  places  itself  on 
their  side. 

Proudhon,  like  the  Communists,  fights  against  egoism. 
Therefore  they  are  continuations  and  consistent  carry- 
ing-out of  the  Christian  principle,  the  principle  of  love, 
of  sacrifice  for  something  general,  something  alien.  They 
complete  in  property,  e.  g.,  only  what  has  long  been  extant 
as  a  matter  of  fact — viz.  the  propertylessness  of  the  indi- 
vidual. When  the  law  says.  Ad  reges  potestas  omnium 
pertinet,  ad  singulos  proprietas ;  omnia  rex  imperio  pos- 
sidet,  singiili  dominio,  this  means:  The  king  is  proprietor, 
for  he  alone  can  control  and  dispose  of  ''everything,"  he 
has  potestas  and  imperiiim  over  it.  The  Communists 
make  this  clearer,  transferring  that  imperium  to  the 
"society  of  all."  Therefore:  Because  enemies  of  egoism, 
they  are  on  that  account — Christians,  or,  more  generally 
speaking,  religious  men,  believers  in  ghosts,  dependents, 
servants  of  some  generality  (God,  society,  etc.).  In  this 
too  Proudhon  is  like  the  Christians,  that  he  ascribes  to 
God  that  which  he  denies  to  men.  He  names  him  {e.  g., 
page  90)  the  Proprietaire  of  the  earth.  Herewith  he 
proves  that  he  cannot  think  away  the  proprietor  as  such; 
he  comes  to  a  proprietor  at  last,  but  removes  him  to  the 
other  world. 

Neither  God  nor  Man  ("human  society")  is  proprietor, 
but  the  individual. 

Proudhon  (Weitling  too)  thinks  he  is  telling  the  worst 
about  property  when  he  calls  it  theft  (vol).  Passing 
quite  over  the  embarrassing  question,  what  well-founded 


THE  OWNER 


263 


objection  could  be  made  against  theft,  we  only  ask:  Is 
the  concept  "theft''  c^t  all  possible  unless  one  allows  va- 
lidity to  the  concept  ''property"?  How  can  one  steal  if 
property  is  not  already  extant  ?  What  belongs  to  no  one 
cannot  be  stolen;  the  water  that  one  draws  out  of  the  sea 
he  does  not  steal  Accordingly  property  is  not  theft,  but 
a  theft  becomes  possible  only  through  property.  Weitling 
has  to  come  to  this  too,  as  he  does  regard  everything  as 
the  property  of  all:  if  something  is  ''the  property  of  all." 
then  indeed  the  individual  who  appropriates  it  to  himself 
steals. 

Private  property  lives  by  grace  of  the  law.  Only  in 
the  law  has  it  its  warrant — for  possession  is  not  yet  prop- 
erty, it  becomes  "mine"  >only  by  assent  of  the  law — ;  it 
is  not  a  fact,  not  un  fait  as  Proudhon  thinks,  but  a  fic- 
tion, a  thought.  This  is  legal  property,  legitimate  prop- 
erty.   It  is  mine  not  through  me  but  through  the — law. 

Nevertheless,  property  is  the  expression  for  unlimited 
dominion  over  somewhat  (thing,  ibeast,  man)  which  "I 
can  judge  and  dispose  of  as  seems  good  to  me."  Ac- 
cording to  Roman  law,  indeed,  jus  utendi  et  abutendi  re 
sua,  quatenus  juris  ratio  patitur,  an  exclusive  and  un- 
limited right;  but  property  is  conditioned  by  might. 
What  I  have  in  my  power,  that  is  my  own.  So  long  as 
I  assert  myself  as  holder,  I  am  the  proprietor  of  the 
thing;  if  it  gets  away  from  me  again,  no  matter  by  what 
power,  e.  g.  through  my  recognition  of  a  title  of  others 
to  the  thing-^then  the  property  is  extinct.  Thus  prop- 
erty and  possession  coincide.  It  is  not  a  right  lying  out- 
side my  might  that  legitimizes  me,  but  solely  my  might ; 
if  I  no  longer  have  this,  the  thing  vanishes  away  from 
me.  When  the  Romans  no  longer  had  any  might  against 
the  Germans,  the  world-empire  of  Rome  belonged  to  the 
latter,  and  it  would  sound  ridiculous  to  insist  that  the 
Romans  had  nevertheless  remained  properly  the  proprie- 
tors. Whoever  knows  how  to  take  and  to  defend  the 
thing,  to  him  it  belongs  till  it  is  again  taken  from  him,  as 
liberty  belongs  to  him  who  takes  it. 

Only  might  decides  about  property,  and,  as  the  State 


264 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


(no  matter  whether  State  of  well-to-do  citizens  or  of 
ragamuffins  or  of  men  in  the  absolute)  is  the  sole  mighty 
one,  it  alone  is  proprietor;  I,  the  unique,*  have  nothing, 
and  am  only  enfeoffed,  am  vassal  and,  as  such,  servitor. 
Under  the  dominion  of  the  State  there  is  no  property 
of  mine, 

I  want  to  raise  the  value  of  myself,  the  value  of  own- 
ness,  and  should  I  cheapen  property?  *'No,  as  I  was  not 
respected  hitherto  because  people,  mankind,  and  a  thou- 
sand other  generalities  were  put  higher,  so  property  too 
has  to  this  day  not  yet  been  recognized  in  its  full  value. 
Property  too  was  only  the  property  of  a  ghost,  e.  g.  the 
people's  property;  my  whole  existence  ''belonged  to  the 
fatherland'' :  /  belonged  to  the  fatherland,  the  people,  the 
State,  and  therefore  also  ever3rthing  that  I  called  my 
own.  It  is  demanded  of  States  that  they  make  away  with 
pauperism.  It  seems  to  me  this  is  asking  that  the  State 
should  cut  off  its  own  head  and  lay  it  at  its  feet;  for  so 
long  as  the  State  is  the  ego  the  individual  ego  must  re- 
main a  poor  devil,  a  non-ego.  The  State  has  an  inter- 
est only  in  being  itself  rich ;  whether  Michael  is  rich  and 
Peter  poor  is  alike  to  it;  Peter  might  also  be  rich  and 
Michael  poor.  It  looks  on  indifferently  as  one  grows  poor 
and  the  other  rich,  unruflled  by  this  alternation.  As  m- 
dividuals  they  are  really  equal  before  its  face;  in  this 
it  is  just:  before  it  both  of  them  are — nothing,  as  we 
"are  altogether  sinners  before  God" ;  on  the  other  hand, 
H  has  a  very  great  interest  in  this,  that  those  individuals 
who  make  it  their  ego  should  have  a  part  in  its  wealth ; 
it  makes  them  partakers  in  its  property.  Through  prop- 
erty, with  which  it  rewards  the  individuals,  it  tames  them ; 
but  this  remains  its  property,  and  every  one  has  the  usu- 
fruct of  it  only  so  long  as  he  bears  in  himself  the  ego 
of  the  State,  or  is  a  "loyal  member  of  society";  in  the 
opposite  case  the  property  is  confiscated,  or  made  to  melt 
away  by  vexatious  lawsuits.  The  property,  then,  is  and 
remains  State  property,  not  property  of  the  ego.  That 


*  [Einzige] 


THE  OWNER 


265 


the  State  does  not  arbitraril}^  deprive  the  individual  of 
what  he  has  from  the  State  means  simply  that  the  State 
does  not  rob  itself.  He  who  is  a  State-ego,  i,  e,  a  good 
citizen  or  subject,  holds  his  fief  undisturbed  as  such  an 
ego,  not  as  being  an  ego  of  his  own.  According  to  the 
code,  property  is  what  I  call  mine  ''by  virtue  of  God  and 
law."  But  it  is  mine  by  virtue  of  God  and  law  only  so 
long  as — the  State  has  nothing  against  it. 

In  expropriations,  disarmaments,  and  the  like  (as, 
e,  g,,  the  exchequer  confiscates  inheritances  if  the  heirs  do 
not  put  in  an  appearance  early  enough)  how  plainly  the 
else-veiled  principle  that  only  the  people,  '^the  State,"  is 
proprietor,  while  the  individual  is  feoffee,  strikes  the 
eye ! 

The  State,  I  mean  to  say,  cannot  intend  that  anybody 
should  for  his  own  sake  have  property  or  actually  be 
rich,  nay,  even  well-to-do;  it  can  acknowledge  nothing, 
yield  nothing,  grant  nothing  to  me  as  me.  The  State 
cannot  check  pauperism,  because  the  poverty  of  posses- 
sion is  a  poverty  of  me.  He  who  is  nothing  but  what 
chance  or  another — to  wit,  the  State — makes  out  of  him 
also  has  quite  rightly  nothing  but  what  another  gives  him. 
And  this  other  will  give  him  only  what  he  deserves,  i.  e, 
what  he  is  worth  by  service.  It  is  not  he  that  realizes  a 
value  from  himself ;  the  State  realizes  a  value  from  him. 

National  economy  busies  itself  much  with  this  subject. 
It  lies  far  out  beyond  the  "national,"  however,  and  goes 
beyond  the  concepts  and  horizon  of  the  State,  which 
knows  only  State  property  and  can  distribute  nothing  else. 
For  this  reason  it  binds  the  possession  of  property  to 
conditions — as  it  binds  everything  to  them,  e.  g.  marriage, 
allowing  validity  only  to  the  marriage  sanctioned  by  it, 
and  wresting  this  out  of  my  power.  But  property  is 
my  property  only  when  I  hold  it  unconditionally',  only 
I,  as  unconditioned  ego,  have  property,  enter  a  relation  of 
love,  carry  on  free  trade. 

The  State  has  no  anxiety  about  me  and  mine,  but  about 
itself  and  its :  I  count  for  something  to  it  only  as  its  child, 
as  ''a  son  of  the  country";  as  ego  I  am  nothing  at  all 


266 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


for  it.  For  the  State's  understanding,  what  befalls  me 
as  ego  is  something  accidental,  my  wealth  as  well  as  my 
impoverishment.  But,  if  I  with  all  that  is  mine  am  an 
accident  in  the  State's  eyes,  this  proves  that  it  cannot 
comprehend  me :  /  go  beyond  its  concepts,  or,  its  under- 
standing is  too  limited  to  comprehend  me.  Therefore  it 
cannot  do  anything  for  me  either. 

Pauperism  is  the  valuelessness  of  me,  the  phenome- 
non that  I  cannot  realize  value  from  myself.  For  this 
reason  State  and  pauperism  are  one  and  the  same.  The 
State  does  not  let  me  come  to  my  value,  and  continues 
in  existence  only  through  my  valuelessness :  it  is  forever 
intent  on  getting  benefit  from  me,  i.  e.  exploiting  me, 
turning  me  to  account,  using  me  up,  even  if  the  use  it 
gets  from  me  consists  only  in  my  supplying  a  proles 
{proletariat)  ;  it  wants  me  to  be  ''its  creature." 

Pauperism  can  be  removed  only  when  I  as  ego  realize 
value  from  myself,  when  I  give  my  own  self  value,  and 
make  my  price  myself.  I  must  rise  in  revolt  to  rise  in  the 
world. 

What  I  produce,  flour,  linen,  or  iron  and  coal,  which 
I  toilsomely  win  form  the  earth,  etc.^  is  my  work  that 
I  want  to  realize  value  from.  But  then  I  may  long 
complain  that  I  am  not  paid  for  my  work  according  to 
its  value :  the  payer  will  not  listen  to  me,  and  the  State 
likewise  will  maintain  an  apathetic  attitude  so  long  as 
it  does  not  think  it  must  ''appease"  me  that  /  may  not 
break  out  with  my  dreaded  might.  But  this  "appeasing" 
will  be  all,  and,  if  it  comes  into  my  head  to  ask  for 
more,  the  State  turns  against  me  with  all  the  force  of 
its  lion-paws  and  eagle-claws:  for  it  is  the  king  of  beasts, 
it  is  lion  and  eagle.  If  I  refuse  to  be  content  with  the 
price  that  it  fixes  for  my  ware  and  labor,  if  I  rather 
aspire  to  determine  the  price  of  my  ware  myself,  e. 
"to  pay  myself,"  in  the  first  place  I  come  into  a  conflict 
with  the  buyers  of  the  ware.  If  this  were  stilled  by  a 
mutual  understanding,  the  State  would  not  readily  make 
objections:  for  how  individuals  get  along  with  each 
other  troubles  it  little,  so  long  as  therein  they  do  not  get  in 


THE  OWNER 


267 


its  way.  Its  damage  and  its  danger  begin  only  when 
they  do  not  agree,  but,  in  the  absence  of  a  settlement,  take 
each  other  by  the  hair.  The  State  cannot  endure  that 
man  stand  in  a  direct  relation  to  man ;  it  must  step  be- 
tween as — mediator,  must — intervene.  What  Christ  was, 
what  the  saints,  the  Church  were,  the  State  has  be- 
come— to  wit,  ''mediator.''  It  tears  man  from  man  to  put 
itself  between  them  as  ''spirit."  The  laborers  who  ask 
for  higher  pay  are  treated  as  criminals  as  soon  as  they 
want  to  compel  it.  What  are  they  to  do  ?  Without  com- 
pulsion they  don't  get  it,  and  in  compulsion  the  State 
sees  a  self-help,  a  determination  of  price  by  the  ego, 
a  genuine,  free  realization  of  value  from  his  property, 
which  it  cannot  admit  of.  What  then  are  the  laborers 
to  do?  Look  to  themselves  and  ask  nothing  about  the 
State  ? 

But,  as  is  the  situation  with  regard  to  my  material 
work,  so  it  is  with  my  intellectual  too.  The  State  allows 
me  to  realize  value  from  all  my  thoughts  and  to  find  cus- 
tomers for  them  (I  do  realize  value  from  them,  e.  g.  in 
the  very  fact  that  they  bring  me  honor  from  the  listeners, 
and  the  like)  ;  but  only  so  long  as  my  thoughts  are — its 
thoughts.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  I  harbor  thoughts  that 
it  cannot  approve  {i.  e.  make  its  own),  then  it  does  nor 
allow  me  at  all  to  realize  value  from  them,  to  bring 
them  into  exchange,  into  commerce.  My  thoughts  are  free 
only  if  they  are  granted  to  me  by  the  State's  grace,  i.  e. 
if  they  are  the  State's  thoughts.  It  lets  me  philosophize 
freely  only  so  far  as  I  approve  myself  a  "philosopher  of 
State" ;  against  the  State  I  must  not  philosophize,  gladly 
as  it  tolerates  my  helping  it  out  of  its  "deficiencies," 
"furthering"  it. — Therefore,  as  I  may  behave  only  as 
an  ego  most  graciously  permitted  by  the  State,  provided 
with  its  testimonial  of  legitimacy  and  police  pass,  so  too 
it  is  not  granted  me  to  realize  value  from  what  is  mine, 
unless  this  proves  to  be  its,  which  I  hold  as  fief  from  It. 
My  ways  must  be  its  ways,  else  it  distrains  me ;  my 
thoughts  its  thoughts,  else  it  stops  my  mouth. 

The  State  has  nothing  to  be  more  afraid  of  than  the 


268 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


value  of  me,  and  nothing  must  it  more  carefully  guard 
against  than  every  occasion  that  offers  itself  to  me  for 
realizing  value  from  myself.  /  am  the  deadly  enemy  of 
the  State,  which  always  hovers  between  the  alternatives, 
it  or  I.  Therefore  it  strictly  insists  not  only  on  not  let- 
ting me  have  a  standing,  but  also  on  keeping  down  what 
IS  mine.  In  the  State  there  is  no — property,  i.  e.  no 
property  of  the  individual,  but  only  State  property.  Only 
through  the  State  have  I  what  I  have,  as  I  am  only 
through  it  what  I  am.  My  private  property  is  only 
that  which  the  State  leaves  to  me  of  its,  cutting  off  others 
from  it  (depriving  them,  making  it  private)  ;  it  is  State 
property. 

But,  in  opposition  to  the  State,  I  feel  more  and  more 
clearly  that  there  is  still  left  me  a  great  might,  the  might 
over  myself,  i.  e,  over  everything  that  pertains  only  to 
me  and  that  exists  only  in  being  my  own. 

What  do  I  do  if  my  ways  are  no  longer  its  ways,  my 
thoughts  no  longer  its  thoughts?  I  look  to  myself,  and 
ask  nothing  about  it !  In  my  thoughts,  which  I  get  sanc- 
tioned by  no  assent,  grant,  or  grace,  I  have  my  real 
property,  a  property  with  which  I  can  trade.  For  as 
mine  they  are  my  creatures,  and  I  am  in  a  position  to  give 
them  away  in  return  for  other  thoughts :  I  give  them  up 
and  take  in  exchange  for  them  others,  which  then  are  my 
new  purchased  property. 

What  then  is  my  property?  Nothing  but  what  is  in 
my  power!  To  what  property  am  I  entitled?  To  every 
property  to  which  I — empower  myself.*  I  give  myself 
the  right  of  property  in  taking  property  to  myself,  or 
giving  myself  the  proprietor's  power,  full  power,  empow- 
erment. 

Everything  over  which  I  have  might  that  cannot  be 
torn  from  me  remains  my  property ;  well,  then  let  might 
decide  about  property,  and  I  will  expect  everything  from 
my  might!  Alien  might,  might  that  I  leave  to  another, 
makes  me  an  owned  slave :  then  let  my  own  might  make 


*  [A  German  idiom  for  "take  upon  myself/'  "assume."] 


THE  OWNER 


269 


me  an  owner.  Let  me  then  withdraw  the  might  that 
I  have  conceded  to  others  out  of  ignorance  regarding  the 
strength  of  my  ow7i  might  \  Let  me  say  to  myself,  what 
my  might  reaches  to  is  my  property ;  and  let  me  claim  as 
property  everything  that  I  feel  myself  strong  enough 
to  attain,  and  let  me  extend  my  actual  property  as  far 
as  /  entitle,  i.  ^.—empower,  myself  to  take. 

Here  egoism,  selfishness,  must  decide;  not  the  prin- 
ciple of  love,  not  love-motives  like  mercy,  gentleness, 
good-nature,  or  even  justice  and  equity  (for  justitia  too 
is  a  phenomenon  of — love,  a  product  of  love)  :  love  know- 
only  sacrifices  and  demands  "self-sacrifice." 

Egoism  does  not  think  of  sacrificing  anything,  giving 
away  anything  that  it  wants ;  it  simply  decides,  What  I 
want  I  must  have  and  will  procure. 

All  attempts  to  enact  rational  laws  about  property 
have  put  out  from  the  bay  of  love  into  a  desolate  sea  of 
regulations.  Even  Socialism  and  Communism  cannot  be 
excepted  from  this.  Every  one  is  to  be  provided  with 
adequate  means,  for  which  it  is  little  to  the  point  whether 
one  socialistically  finds  them  still  in  a  personal  property, 
or  communistically  draws  them  from  the  community  of 
goods.  The  individual's  mind  in  this  remains  the  same ; 
it  remains  a  mind  of  dependence.  The  distributing  board 
of  equity  lets  me  have  only  what  the  sense  of  equity,  its 
loving  care  for  all,  prescribes.  For  me,  the  individual, 
there  lies  no  less  of  a  check  in  collective  wealth  than  in 
that  of  individual  others;  neither  that  is  mine,  nor  this: 
whether  the  wealth  belongs  to  the  collectivity,  which  con- 
fers part  of  it  on  me  or  to  individual  possessors,  is  for 
me  the  same  constraint,  as  I  cannot  decide  about  either 
of  the  two.  On  the  contrary,  Communism,  by  the  aboli- 
tion of  all  personal  property,  only  presses  me  back  still 
more  into  dependence  on  another,  vis.,  on  the  generality 
or  collectivity;  and,  loudly  as  it  always  attacks  the 
''State,''  what  it  intends  is  itself  again  a  State,  a  status, 
a  condition  hindering  my  free  movement,  a  sovereign 
power  over  me.  Commmunism  rightly  revolts  against  the 
pressure  that  I  experience  from  individual  proprietors; 


270 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


but  still  more  horrible  is  the  might  that  it  puts  in  the 
hands  of  the  collectivity. 

Egoism  takes  another  way  to  root  out  the  non-possess- 
ing rabble.  It  does  not  say:  Wait  for  what  the  board 
of  equity  will — bestow  on  you  in  the  name  of  the  col- 
lectivity (for  such  bestowal  took  place  in  "States''  from 
the  most  ancient  times,  each  receiving  "according  to 
his  desert,"  and  therefore  according  to  the  measure  in 
which  each  was  able  to  deserve  it,  to  acquire  it  by  ser- 
vice), but:  Take  hold,  and  take  what  you  require!  With 
this  the  war  of  all  against  all  is  declared.  /  alone  de- 
cide what  I  will  have. 

"Now,  that  is  truly  no  new  wisdom,  for  self-seekers 
have  acted  so  at  all  times !"  Not  at  all  necessary  either 
that  the  thing  be  new,  if  only  consciousness  of  it  is  pres- 
ent. But  this  latter  will  not  be  able  to  claim  great  age, 
unless  perhaps  one  counts  in  the  Egyptian  and  Spartan 
law;  for  how  little  current  it  is  appears  even  from  the 
stricture  above,  which  speaks  with  contempt  of  "self- 
seekers."  One  is  to  know  just  this,  that  the  procedure 
of  taking  hold  is  not  contemptible,  but  manifests  the  pure 
deed  of  the  egoist  at  one  with  himself. 

Only  when  I  expect  neither  from  individuals  nor  from 
a  collectivity  what  I  can  give  to  myself,  only  then  do  I 
slip  out  of  the  snares  of — love;  the  rabble  ceases  to  be 
rabble  only  when  it  takes  hold.  Only  the  dread  of  tak- 
ing hold,  and  the  corresponding  punishment  thereof, 
makes  it  a  rabble.  Only  that  taking  hold  is  sin,  crime — 
only  this  dogma  creates  a  rabble.  For  the  fact  that  the 
rabble  remains  what  it  is,  it  (because  it  allows  validity 
to  that  dogma)  is  to  blame  as  well  as,  more  especially, 
those  who  ''self-seekingly"  (to  give  them  back  their  fav'- 
orite  word)  demand  that  the  dogma  be  respected.  In 
short,  the  lack  of  consciousness  of  that  "new  wisdom,'- 
the  old  consciousness  of  sin,  alone  bears  the  blame. 

If  men  reach  the  point  of  losing  resnect  for  property, 
every  one  will  have  property,  as  all  slaves  become  free 
men  as  soon  as  they  no  longer  respect  the  master  as 
master.   Unions  will  then,  in  this  matter  too,  multiplv  the 


THE  OWNER 


271 


individuaFs  means  and  secure  his  assailed  prop- 
erty. 

According  to  the  Communists'  opinion  the  commune 
should  be  proprietor.  On  the  contrary,  /  am  proprietor, 
and  I  only  come  to  an  understanding  with  others  about 
my  property.  If  the  commune  does  not  do  what  suits 
me,  I  rise  against  it  and  defend  my  property.  I  am  prop- 
rietor, but  property  is  not  sabred.  I  should  be  merely 
possessor?  No,  hitherto  one  was  only  possessor,  secured 
in  the  possession  of  a  parcel  by  leaving  others  also  in 
possession  of  a  parcel ;  but  now  everything  belongs  to  me, 
I  am  proprietor  of  everything  that  I  require  and  can  get 
possession  of.  If  it  is  said  socialistically,  society  gives 
me  what  I  require — then  the  egoist  says,  I  take  what  I 
require.  If  the  Communists  conduct  themselves  as  raga- 
muffins, the  egoist  behaves  as  proprietor. 

All  swan-fraternities,*  and  attempts  at  making  the 
rabble  happy,  that  spring  from  the  principle  of  love,  must 
miscarry.  Only  from  egoism  can  the  rabble  get  help, 
and  this  help  it  must  give  to  itself  and — will  give  to  it- 
self. If  it  does  not  let  itself  be  coerced  into  fear,  it  is 
a  power.  'Teople  would  lose  all  respect  if  one  did  not 
coerce  them  so  into  fear,''  says  bugbear  Law  in  ''Der 
gestiefelte  Kater/' 

Property,  therefore,  should  not  and  cannot  be  abolished, 
it  must  rather  be  torn  from  ghostly  hands  and  become 
my  property ;  then  the  erroneous  consciousness,  that  I 
cannot  entitle  myself  to  as  much  as  I  require,  will  vanish. 

"But  what  cannot  man  require!''  Well,  whoever  re- 
quires much,  and  understands  how  to  get  it,  has  at  all 
times  helped  himself  to  it,  as  Napoleon  did  with  the  Con- 
tinent and  France  with  Algiers.  Hence  the  exact  point 
is  that  the  respectful  ''rabble"  should  learn  a  last  to 
help  itself  to  what  it  requires.  If  it  reaches  out  too  far 
for  you,  why,  then  defend  yourselves.  You  have  no 
need  at  all  to  good-heartedly — bestow  anything  on  it; 
and,  when  it  learns  to  know  itself,  it — or  rather:  who- 

*  [Apparently  some  benevolent  scheme  of  the  day;  compare 
note  on  p.  272.1 


272 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


ever  of  the  rabble  learns  to  know  himself,  he — casts  off 
the  rabble-quality  in  refusing  your  alms  with  thanks. 
But  it  remains  ridiculous  that  you  declare  the  rabble 
''sinful  and  criminal"  if  it  is  not  pleased  to  live  from 
your  favors  because  it  can  do  something  in  its  own  favor. 
Your  bestowals  cheat  it  and  put  it  off.  Defend  your  prop- 
erty, then  you  will  be  strong ;  if,  on  the  other  hand,  you 
want  to  retain  your  ability  to  bestow,  and  perhaps  actual- 
ly have  the  more  political  rights  the  more  alms  (poor- 
'  rates)  you  can  give,  this  will  work  just  as  long  as  the 
recipients  let  your  work  it.* 

In  short,  the  property  question  cannot  be  solved  so 
amicably  as  the  Socialists,  yes,  even  the  Communists, 
dream.  It  is  solved  only  by  the  war  of  all  against  all. 
The  poor  become  free  and  proprietors  only  when  they 
— rise.  Bestow  ever  so  much  on  them,  they  will  still  al- 
ways want  more ;  for  they  want  nothing  less  than  that  at 
last — nothing  more  be  bestowed. 

It  will  be  asked,  But  how  then  will  it  be  when  the  have- 
nots  take  heart?  Of  what  sort  is  the  settlement  to  be? 
One  might  as  well  ask  that  I  cast  a  child's  nativity.  What 
a  slave  will  do  as  soon  as  he  has  broken  his  fetters,  one 
must — await. 

In  Kaiser's  pamphlet,  worthless  for  lack  of  form  as 
well  as  substance  {'[Die  Persoenlichkeit  des  Eigentuemers 
in  Bezug  auf  den  Socialismus  und  Communismus/^  etc.), 
he  hopes  from  the  State  that  it  will  bring  about  a  leveling 
of  property.  Always  the  State!  Herr  Papa!  As  the 
Church  was  proclaimed  and  looked  upon  as  the  "mother" 
of  believers,  so  the  State  has  altogether  the  face  of  the 
provident  father. 

Competition  shows  itself  most  strictly  connected  with 
the  principle  of  civism.  Is  it  an3i:hing  else  than  equality 
(egalite)?    And  is  not  equality  a  product  of  that  same 

*Tn  a  resristration  bill  for  Ireland  the  government  made  the 
T)roposal  to  let  those  be  electors  who  pay  £S  sterling ^of  poor-rates. 
He  who  gives  alms,  therefore,  acquires  political  rights,  or  else- 
where becomes  a  swan-knight  .    fSee  p.  271.] 


THE  OWNER 


273 


Revolution  which  was  brought  on  by  the  commonalty, 
the  middle  classes?  As  no  one  is  barred  from  com- 
peting with  all  in  the  State  (except  the  prince,  because 
he  represents  the  State  itself)  and  working  himself  up 
to  their  height,  yes,  overthrowing  or  exploiting  them  for 
his  own  advantage,  soaring  above  them  and  by  stronger 
exertion  depriving  them  of  their  favorable  circumstances 
— this  serves  as  a  clear  proof  that  before  the  State's  judg- 
ment-seat every  one  has  only  the  value  of  a  ''simple  in- 
dividual" and  may  not  count  on  any  favoritism.  Out- 
run and  outbid  each  other  as  much  as  you  like  and  can ; 
that  shall  not  trouble  me,  the  State !  Among  yourselves 
you  are  free  in  competing,  you  are  competitors;  that  is 
your  social  position.  But  before  me,  the  State,  you  are 
nothing  but  ''simple  individuals"  !* 

What  in  the  form  of  principle  or  theory  was  pro- 
pounded as  the  equality  of  all  has  found  here  in  compe- 
tition its  realization  and  practical  carrying  out ;  for  egalite 
is — free  competition.  All  are,  before  the  State — simple 
individuals;  in  society,  or  in  relation  to  each  other — 
competitors. 

I  need  be  nothing  further  than  a  simple  individual  to 
be  able  to  compete  with  all  others  aside  from  the  prince 
and  his  family:  a  freedom  which  formerly  was  made 
impossible  by  the  fact  that  only  by  means  of  one's  corpora- 
tion, and  within  it,  did  one  enjoy  any  freedom  of  effort. 

In  the  guild  and  feudality  the  State  is  in  an  intolerant 
and  fastidious  attitude,  granting  privileges;  in  competi- 
tion and  liberalism  it  is  in  a  tolerant  and  indulgent  atti- 
tude, granting  only  patents  (letters  assuring  the  applicant 
that  the  business  stands  open  [patent]  to  him)  or  ''con- 
cessions.''   Now,  as  the  State  has  thus  left  everything 

*  Minister  Stein  used  this  expression  about  Count  von  Reisach, 
when  he  cold-bloodedly  left  the  latter  at  the  mercy  of  the 
Bavarian  government  because  to  him,  as  he  said,  "a  government 
like  Bavaria  must  be  worth  more  than  a  simple  individual.'* 
Reisach  had  written  against  Montgelas  at  Stein's  bidding,  and 
Stein  later  agreed  to  the  giving  up  of  Reisach,  which  was  de- 
rnanded  by  Montgelas  on  account  of  this  very  book.  See  Hen- 
richs, ''Politische  Vorlesungen/*  I,  280. 


274 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


to  the  applicants,  it  must  come  in  conflict  with  all,  be- 
cause each  and  all  are  entitled  to  make  application.  It 
will  be  ''stormed,"  and  will  go  down  in  this  storm. 

Is  ''free  competition"  then  really  "free"?  nay,  is  it 
really  a  "competition" — to  wit,  one  of  persons — as  it  gives 
itself  out  to  be  because  on  this  title  it  bases  its  right? 
It  originated,  you  know,  in  persons  becoming  free  of  all 
personal  rule.  Is  a  competition  "free"  which  the  State, 
this  ruler  in  the  civic  principle,  hems  in  by  a  thousand 
barriers?  There  is  a  rich  manufacturer  doing  a  bril- 
liant business,  and  I  should  like  to  compete  with  him. 
"Go  ahead,"  says  the  State,  "I  have  no  objection  to  make 
to  your  person  as  competitor."  Yes,  I  reply,  but  for  that 
I  need  a  space  for  buildings,  I  need  money !  "That's  bad  ; 
but,  if  you  have  no  money,  you  cannot  compete.  You 
must  not  take  anything  from  anybody,  for  I  protect  prop- 
erty and  grant  it  privileges."  Free  competition  is  not 
"free,"  because  I  lack  the  things  for  competition.  Against 
my  person  no  objection  can  be  made,  but  because  I  have 
not  the  things  my  person  too  must  step  to  the  rear.  And 
who  has  the  necessary  things?  Perhaps  that  manufac- 
turer? Why,  from  him  I  could  take  them  away!  No, 
the  State  has  them  as  property,  the  manufacturer  only  as 
fief,  as  possession. 

But,  since  it  is  no  use  trying  it  with  the  manufacturer, 
I  will  compete  with  that  professor  of  jurisprudence; 
the  man  is  a  booby,  and  I,  who  know  a  hundred  times 
more  than  he,  shall  make  his  class-room  empty.  "Have 
you  studied  and  graduated,  friend?"  No,  but  what  of 
that?  I  understand  abundantly  what  is  necessary  for  in- 
struction in  that  department.  "Sorry,  but  competition  is 
not  'free'  here.  Against  your  person  there  is  nothing  to 
be  said,  but  the  thing,  the  doctor's  diploma,  is  lacking. 
And  this  diploma  I,  the  State,  demand.  Ask  me  for  it 
respectfullv  first ;  then  we  will  see  what  is  to  be  done.'' 

This,  therefore,  is  the  "freedom"  of  competition.  The 
State,  wv  lord,  first  qualifies  me  to  compete. 

But  do  persons  really  compete?  No,  again  things 
only !   Moneys  in  the  first  place,  etc. 


THE  OWNER 


275 


In  the  rivalry  one  will  always  be  left  behind  another 
{e.  g,  a  poetaster  behind  a  poet).  But  it  makes  a  differ- 
ence whether  the  means  that  the  unlucky  competitor 
lacks  are  personal  or  material,  and  likewise  whether  the 
material  means  can  be  won  by  personal  energy  or  are 
to  be  obtained  only  by  grace,  only  as  a  present ;  as  when, 
e.  g,,  the  poorer  man  must  leave,  i.  e,  present,  to  the  rich 
man  his  riches.  But,  if  I  must  all  along  wait  for  the 
State's  approval  to  obtain  or  to  use  (e.  g.  in  the  case  of 
graduation)  the  means,  I  have  the  means  by  the  grace 
of  the  Statej^ 

Free  competition,  therefore,  has  only  the  following 
meaning :  To  the  State  all  rank  as  its  equal  children,  and 
every  one  can  scud  and  run  to  earn  the  State's  goods 
and  largess.  Therefore  all  do  chase  after  havings,  hold- 
ings, possessions  (be  it  of  money  or  offices,  titles  of 
honor,  etc.),  after  the  things,^ 

In  the  mind  of  the  commonalty  every  one  is  possessor 
or  ''owner.''  Now,  whence  comes  it  that  the  most  have 
in  fact  next  to  nothing?  From  this,  that  the  most  are 
already  joyful  over  being  possessors  at  all,  even  though 
it  be  of  some  rags,  as  children  are  joyful  in  their  first 
trousers  or  even  the  first  penny  that  is  presented  to  them. 
More  precisely,  however,  the  matter  is  to  be  taken  as 
follows.  Liberalism  came  forward  at  once  with  the  dec- 
laration that  it  belonged  to  man's  essence  not  to  be  prop- 
erty, but  proprietor.  As  the  consideration  here  was 
about  ''man,"  not  about  the  individual,  the  how-much 
(which  formed  exactly  the  point  of  the  individual's 
special  interest)  was  left  to  him.  Hence  the  individual's 
egoism  retained  room  for  the  freest  play  in  this  how- 


*  In  colleges  and  universities,  etc.,  poor  men  compete  with  rich. 
But  they  are  able  to  do  so  in  most  cases  only  through  scholar- 
ships, which — a  significant  point — almost  all  come  down  to  us 
from  a  time  when  free  competition  was  still  far  from  being  a 
controlling  principle.  The  principle  of  competition  founds  no 
scholarship,  but  says,  Help  yourself,  i.  e.  provide  yourself  the 
means.  What  the  State  gives  for  such  purposes  it  pays  out  from 
interested  motives,  to  educate  "servants"  for  itself. 


276  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


much,  and   carried  on  an  indefatigable  competition. 

However,  the  lucky  egoism  had  to  become  a  snag  in 
the  way  of  the  less  fortunate,  and  the  latter,  still  keeping 
its  feet  planted  on  the  principle  of  humanity,  put  forward 
the  question  as  to  the  how-much  of  possession,  and  an- 
swered it  to  the  effect  that  *'man  must  have  as  much  as 
he  requires." 

Will  it  be  possible  for  my  egoism  to  let  itself  be  satis- 
fied with  that?  What  ''man"  requires  furnishes  by  no 
means  a  scale  for  measuring  me  and  my  needs;  for  I 
may  have  use  for  less  or  more.  I  must  rather  have  so 
much  as  I  am  competent  to  appropriate. 

Competition  suffers  from  the  unfavorable  circumstance 
that  the  means  for  competing  are  not  at  everyone's  com- 
mand, because  they  are  not  taken  from  personality,  but 
from  accident.  Most  are  without  means,  and  for  this 
reason  without  goods.  | 

Hence  the  Socialists  demand  the  means  for  all,  and 
aim  at  a  society  that  shall  offer  means.  Your  money 
value,  say  they,  we  no  longer  recognize  as  your  ''com- 
petence" ;  you  must  show  another  competence— to  wit,.  \ 
your  working  force.  In  the  possession  of  a  property,  or 
as  "possessor,"  man  does  certainly  show  himself  as  man ; 
it  was  for  this  reason  that  we  let  the  possessor,  whom 
we  called  "proprietor,"  keep  his  standing  so  long.  Yet 
you  possess  the  things  only  so  long  as  you  are  not  "put 
out  of  this  property." 

The  possessor  is  competent,  but  only  so  far  as  the 
others  are  incompetent.  Since  your  ware  forms  your 
competence  only  so  long  as  you  are  competent  to  de- 
fend it  (i.  e.,  as  we  are  not  competent  to  do  anything 
with  it),  look  about  you  for  another  competence;  for 
we  now,  by  our  might,  surpass  your  alleged  competence. 

It  was  an  extraordinarily  large  gain  made,  when  the  ; 
point  of  being  regarded  as  possessors  was  put  through. 
Therein  bond  service  was  abolished,  and  every  one  who 
till  then  had  been  bound  to  the  lord's  service,  and  more 
or  less  had  been  his  property,  now  became  a  "lord." 
But  henceforth  your  having,  and  what  you  have,  are  no 


THE  OWNER 


277 


longer  adequate  and  no  longer  recognized ;  per  contra, 
your  working  and  your  work  rise  in  value.  We  now 
respect  your  subduing  things,  as  we  formerly  did  your 
possessing  them.  Your  work  is  your  competence !  You 
are  lord  or  possessor  only  of  what  comes  by  zvork,  not 
by  inheritance.  But  as  at  the  time  everything  has  come 
by  inheritance,  and  every  copper  that  you  possess  bears 
not  a  labor-stamp  but  an  inheritance-stamp,  everything 
must  be  melted  over. 

But  is  my  work  then  really,  as  the  Communists  sup- 
pose, my  sole  competence?  or  does  not  this  consist 
rather  in  everything  that  I  am  competent  for  ?  And  does 
not  the  workers'  society  itself  have  to  concede  this,  e.  g. 
in  supporting  also  the  sick,  children,  old  men — in  short, 
those  who  are  incapable  of  work?  These  are  still  com- 
petent for  a  good  deal,  e,  g,  to  preserve  their  life  instead 
of  taking  it.  f  they  are  competent  to  cause  you  to  de- 
sire their  continued  existence,  they  have  a  power  over 
you.  To  him  who  exercised  utterly  no  power  over  you, 
you  would  vouchsafe  nothing ;  he  might  perish. 

Therefore,  what  you  are  competent  for  is  your  com- 
petence! If  you  are  competent  to  furnish  pleasure  to 
thousands,  then  thousands  will  pay  you  an  honorarium 
for  it;  for  it  would  stand  in  your  power  to  forbear  do- 
ing it,  hence  they  must  purchase  your  deed.  If  you  are 
not  competent  to  captivate  any  one,  you  ma^  simply 
starve. 

Now  am  I,  who  am  competent  for  much,  perchance 
to  have  no  advantage  over  the  less  competent? 

We  are  all  in  the  midst  of  abundance ;  now  shall  I  not 
help  myself  as  well  as  I  can,  but  only  wait  and  see  how 
much  is  left  me  in  an  equal  division? 

Against  competition  there  rises  up  the  principle  of 
ragamuffin  society — partition. 

To  be  looked  upon  as  a  mere  part,  part  of  society,  the 
individual  cannot  bear — ^because  he  is  more;  his  unique- 
ness puts  from  it  this  limited  conception. 

Hence  he  does  not  await  his  competence  from  the 
sharing  of  others,  and  even  in  the  workers'  society  there 


278 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


arises  the  misgiving  that  in  an  equal  partition  the  strong 
will  be  exploited  by  the  weak ;  he  awaits  his  competence 
rather  from  himself,  and  says  now,  What  I  am  com- 
petent to  have,  that  is  my  competence.  What  competence 
does  not  the  child  possess  in  its  smiling,  its  playing,  its 
screaming!  in  short,  in  its  mere  existence!  Are  you 
capable  of  resisting  its  desire?  or  do  you  not  hold  out 
to  it,  as  mother,  your  breast ;  as  father,  as  much  of  your 
possessions  as  it  needs?  It  compels  you,  therefore  it 
possesses  what  you  call  yours. 

If  your  person  is  of  consequence  to  me,  you  pay  me 
with  your  very  existence ;  if  I  am  concerned  only  with 
one  of  your  qualities,  then  your  compliance,  perhaps,  or 
your  aid,  has  a  value  (a  money  value)  for  me,  and  I  pur- 
chase it. 

If  you  do  not  know  how  to  give  yourself  any  other 
than  a  money  value  in  my  estimation,  there  may  arise 
the  case  of  which  history  tells  us,  that  Germans,  sons 
of  the  fatherland,  were  sold  to  America.  Should  those 
who  let  themselves  be  traded  in  be  worth  more  to  the 
seller?  He  preferred  the  cash  to  this  living  ware  that 
did  not  understand  how  to  make  itself  precious  to  him. 
That  he  discovered  nothing  more  valuable  in  it  was 
assuredly  a  defect  of  his  competence;  but  it  takes  a 
rogue  to  give  more  than  he  has.  How  should  he  show 
respect  when  he  did  not  have  it,  nay,  hardly  could  have 
it  for  such  a  pack ! 

You  behave  egotistically  when  you  respect  each  other 
neither  as  possessors  nor  as  ragamuffins  or  workers,  but 
as  a  part  of  your  competence,  as  "useful  bodies/'  Then 
you  will  neither  give  anything  to  the  possessor  ("pro- 
prietor") for  his  possessions,  nor  to  him  who  works,  but 
only  to  him  whom  you  require.  The  North  Americans 
ask  themselves.  Do  we  require  a  king?  and  answer.  Not 
a  farthing  are  he  and  his  work  worth  to  us. 

If  it  is  said  that  competition  throws  every  thing  open 
to  all,  the  expression  is  not  accurate,  and  it  is  better  put 
thus:  competition  makes  everything  purchasable.  In 


THE  OWNER 


279 


abandoning'^  it  to  them,  competition  leaves  it  to  their 
appraisalf  or  their  estimation,  and  demands  a  priced 
for  it. 

But  the  would-be  buyers  mostly  lack  the  means  to 
make  themselves  buyers:  they  have  no  money.  For 
money,  then,  the  purchasable  things  are  indeed  to  be 
had  ("For  money  everything  is  to  be  had!''),  but  it  is 
exactly  money  that  is  lacking.  Where  is  one  to  get 
money,  this  current  or  circulating  property  ?  Know  then^, 
you  have  as  much  money§  as  you  have — might ;  for  you 
county  for  as  much  as  you  make  yourself  count  for. 

One  pays  not  with  money,  of  which  there  may  come 
a  lack,  but  with  his  competence,  by  which  alone  we  are 
''competent"  ;TI  for  one  is  proprietor  only  so  far  as  the 
arm  of  our  power  reaches.  | 

Weitling  has  thought  out  a  new  means  of  payment — 
work.  But  the  true  means  of  payment  remains,  as  al- 
ways, ^competence.  With  what  you  have  ''within  your 
competence"  you  pay.  Therefore  think  on  the  enlarge- 
ment of  your  competence. 

This  being  admitted,  they  are  nevertheless  right  on 
hand  again  with  the  motto,  "To  each  according  to  his 
competence!"  Who  is  to  give  to  me  according  to  my 
competence?  Society?  Then  I  should  have  to  put  up 
with  its  estimation.  Rather,  I  shall  take  according  to 
my  competence. 

"A'll  belongs  to  all!"  This  proposition  springs  from 
the  same  unsubstantial  theory.  To  each  belongs  only 
what  he  is  competent  for.  If  I  say,  The  world  belongs 
to  me,  properly  that  too  is  empty  talk,  which  has  a  mean- 
ing only  in  so  far  as  I  respect  no  alien  property.  But 
to  me  belongs  only  as  much  as  I  am  competent  for,  or 
have  within  my  competence. 

One  is  not  worthy  to  have  what  one,  through  weak- 


*  [preisgeben]     f  [Preis]      t  [Preis]     §  [Geld]    \\  [gelten] 
If  [Equivalent  in  ordinary  German  use  to  our  "possessed  of  a 
competence."] 


280 


THE  EGO'  AND  HIS  OWN 


ness,  lets  be  taken  from  him;  one  is  not  worthy  of  it 
because  one  is  not  capable  of  it. 

They  raise  a  mightly  uproar  over  the  '^wrong  of  a 
thousand  years''  wihich  is  being  committed  by  the  rich 
against  the  poor.  As  if  the  rich  were  to  blame  for  pov- 
erty, and  the  poor  were  not  in  like  manner  responsible 
for  riches !  Is  there  another  difference  between  the  two 
than  that  of  competence  and  incompetence,  of  the  com- 
petent and  incompetent?  Wherein,  pray,  does  the  crime 
of  the  rich  consist?  'Tn  their  hardheartedness.''  But 
who  then  ^have  maintained  the  poor  ?  who  have  cared  for 
their  nourishment  ?  who  have  given  alms,  those  alms  that 
have  even  their  name  from  mercy  (eleemosyne)  ?  Have 
not  the  rich  been  ''mercifur'  at  all  times?  are  they  not 
to  this  day  ''tender-hearted/'  as  poor-taxes,  hospitals, 
foundations  of  all  sorts,  etc.,  prove? 

But  all  this  does  not  satisfy  you!  Doubtless  then, 
they  are  to  share  with  the  poor.  Now  you  are  demand- 
ing that  they  shall  abolish  poverty.  Aside  from  the 
point  that  there  might  be  hardly  one  among  you  who 
would  act  so,  and  that  this  one  would  be  a  fool  for  it, 
do  ask  yourselves :  why  should  the  rich  let  go  their  fleeces 
and  give  up  themselves^  thereby  pursuing  the  advantage 
of  the  poor  rather  than  their  own?  You,  who  have  your 
thaler  daily,  are  rich  above  thousands  who  live  on  four 
groschen.  Is  it  for  your  interest  to  sihare  with  the  thou- 
sands, or  is  it  rather  for  theirs?  

With  competition  is  connected  less  the  intention  to 
do  the  thing  best  than  he  intention  to  make  it  as  profit- 
able, as  productive,  as  possible.  Hence  people  study  to 
get  into  the  civil  service  (pot-boiling  study),  study  cring- 
ing and  flattery,  routine  and  ''acquaintance  with  busi- 
ness," work  "for  appearances."  Hence,  while  it  is  ap- 
parently a  matter  of  doing  "good  service/'  in  truth  only 
a  "good  business"  and  earning  of  money  are  looked  out 
for.  The  job  is  done  only  ostensibly  for  the  job's  sake, 
but  in  fact  on  account  of  the  gain  that  it  yields.  One 
would  indeed  prefer  not  tO'  be  censor,  but  one  wants  to 
be — advanced ;  one  would  like  to  judge,  administer,  etc., 


THE  OWNER 


281 


according  to  his  best  convictions,  but  one  is  afraid  of 
transference  or  even  dismissal ;  one  must,  above  all  things 
— ^^live. 

Thus  these  goins-on  are  a  fight  for  dear  life,  and,  in 
gradation  upward,  for  more  or  less  of  a  "good  living/' 

And  yet,  withal,  their  whole  round  of  toil  and  care 
brings  in  for  most  only  ''bitter  life''  and  ''bitter  poverty." 
All  the  bitter  painstaking  for  this! 

Restless  acquisition  does  not  let  us  take  breath,  take 
a  calm  enjoyment-'  we  do  not  get  the  comfort  of  our 
possessions. 

But  the  organization  of  labor  touches  only  such  labors 
as  others  can  do  for  us^  e.  g.  slaughtering,  tillage,  etc. ; 
the  rest  remain  egoistic,  because,  e.  g.  no  one  can  in 
your  stead  elaborate  your  musical  compositions,  carry 
out  your  projects  of  painting,  etc.;  nobody  can  replace 
Raphael's  labors.  The  latter  are  labors  of  a  unique 
person,*  which  only  he  is  competent  to  achieve,  while 
the  former  deserved  to  be  called  "human,"  since  what 
is  anybody's  ozim  in  them  is  of  slight  account,  and  almost 
"any  man"  can  be  trained  to  it. 

Now,  as  society  can  regard  only  labors  for  the  com- 
mon benefit,  human  labors^,  ihe  who  does  anything  unique 
remains  without  its  care  ;  nay,  he  may  find  himself  dis- 
turbed by  its  intervention.  The  unique  person  will  work 
himself  forth  out  of  society  all  right,  but  society  brings 
forth  no  unique  person. 

Hence  it  is  at  any  rate  helpful  that  we  come  to  an 
agreement  about  human  labors,  that  they  may  not,  as 
under  competition,  claim  all  our  time  and  toil.  So  far 
Communism  will  bear  its  fruits.  For  before  the  dominion 
of  the  commonalty  even  that  for  which  all  men  are  qual- 
ified, or  can  be  quahfied,  was  tied  up  to  a  few  and  with- 
held from  the  rest:  it  was  a  privilege.  To  the  com- 
monalty it  looked  equitable  to  leave  free  all  that  seemed 
to  exist  for  every  "man."  But,  because  leftt  free,  it  was 
yet  given  to  no  one,  but  rather  left  to  each  to  be  got  hold 


[Einzige^ 


t  [Literally,  "given."] 


282  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


of  by  his  human  power.  By  this  the  mind  was  turned 
to  the  acquisition  of  the  human,  which  henceforth  beck- 
oned to  every  one ;  and  there  arose  a  movement  which 
one  hears  so  loudly  bemoaned  under  the  name  of  "ma- 
terialism/' 

Communism  seeks  to  check  its  course,  spreading  the 
belief  that  tlie  human  is  not  worth  so  much  discomfort, 
and,  with  sensible  arrangements,  could  be  gained  without 
the  great  expense  of  time  and  powers  which  has  hitherto 
seemed  requisite. 

But  for  whom  is  time  to  be  gained?  For  what  does 
man  require  more  time  than  is  necessary  to  refresh  his 
wearied  powers  of  labor?    Here  Communism  is  silent. 

For  what?  To  take  comfort  in  himself  as  the  unique, 
after  he  has  done  his  part  as  man! 

In  the  first  joy  over  being  allowed  to  stretch  out  their 
hands  toward  everything  human,  people  forgot  to  want 
anything  else ;  and  they  competed  away  vigorously,  as  if 
the  possession  of  the  human  were  the  goal  of  all  our 
wishes. 

But  they  have  run  themselves  tired,  and  are  gradually 
noticing  that  "possession  does  not  give  happiness." 
Therefore  they  are  thinking  of  obtaining  the  necessary 
by  an  easier  bargain,  and  spending  on  it  only  so  much 
time  and  toil  as  its  indispensableness  exacts.  Riches  fall 
in  price,  and  contented  poverty,  the  care-free  ragamuffin, 
becomes  the  seductive  ideal. 

Should  such  human  activities,  that  every  one  is  con- 
fident of  his  capacity  for,  be  highly  salaried,  and  sought 
for  with  toil  and  expenditure  of  all  life-forces?  Even 
in  the  every-day  form  of  speech,  "If  I  were  minister, 
or  even  the  .  .  .  .,  then  it  should  go  quite  otlherwise,'^ 
that  confidence  expresses  itself — that  one  holds  him- 
self capable  of  playing  the  part  of  such  a  dignitary;  one 
does  get  a  perception  that  to  things  of  this  sort  there 
belongs  not  uniqueness,  but  only  a  culture  which  is  at- 
tainable, even  if  not  exactly  by  all,  at  any  rate  by  many; 
i.  e.  that  for  such  a  thing  one  need  only  be  an  ordinary 
man. 


THE  OWNER 


283 


If  we  assume  that,  as.  order  belongs  to  the  essence  of 
the  State,  so  subordination  too  is  founded  in  its  nature^ 
then  we  see  that  the  subordinates,  or  those  who  have  re- 
ceived preferment,  disproportionately  overcharge  and 
overreach  those  who  are  put  in  the  lower  ranks.  But  the 
latter  take  heart  (first  from  the  Socialist  standpoint,  but 
certainly  with  egoistic  consciousness  later,  of  which  we 
will  tlherefore  at  once  give  their  speech  some  coloring) 
for  the  question,  By  what  then  is  your  property  secure, 
you  creatures  of  preferment? — and  give  themselves  the 
answer.  By  our  refraining  from  interference!  And  so 
by  our  protection !  And  what  do  you  give  us  for  it  ? 
Kicks  and  disdain  you  give  to  the  ''common  people'' ; 
police  supervision,  and  a  catechism  with  the  dhief  sen- 
tence ''Respect  what  is  not  yours,  what  belongs  to  others! 
respect  others,  and  especially  your  superiors!''  But  we 
reply,  "If  you  want  our  respect,  buy  it  for  a  price  agree- 
able to  us.  We  will  leave  you  your  property,  if  you 
give  a  due  equivalent  for  this  leaving."  Really,  what 
equivalent  does  the  general  in  time  of  peace  give  for  the 
many  thousands  of  his  yearly  income?  another  for  the 
sheer  hundred-thousands  and  millions  yearly?  What 
equivalent  do  you  give  for  our  chewing  potatoes  and 
looking  calmly  on  while  you  swallow  oysters?  Only 
buy  the  oysters  of  us  as  dear  as  we  have  to  buy  the  pota- 
toes of  you,  then  you  may  go  on  eating  them.  Or  do  you 
suppose  the  oysters  do  not  belong  to  us  as  much  as  to 
you  ?  You  will  make  an  outcry  over  violence  if  we  reach 
out  our  hands  and  help  consume  them,  and  you  are  right. 
Without  violence  we  do  not  get  them,  as  you  no  less  have 
them  by  doing  violence  to  us. 

But  take  the  oysters  and  have  done  with  it,  and  let 
us  consider  our  nearer  property,  labor ;  for  the  other 
is  only  possession.  We  distress  ourselves  twelve  hours 
in  the  sweat  of  our  face,  and  you  offer  us  a  few  groschen 
for  it.  Then  take  the  like  for  your  labor  too.  Are  you 
not  willing?  You  fancy  that  our  labor  is  richly  repaid 
with  that  wage,  wihile  yours  on  the  other  hand  is  worth 
a  wage  of  many  thousands.    But,  if  you  did  not  rate 


284 


THE  EGO'  AND  HIS  OWN 


yours  so  high,  and  gave  us  a  better  chance  to  realize 
value  from  ours,  then  we  migfht  well,  if  the  case  demand- 
ed it,  bring  to  pass  still  more  important  things  than  you 
do  for  the  many  thousand  thalers ;  and,  if  you  got  only 
such  wages  as  we^  you  would  soon  grow  more  industrious 
in  order  to  receive  more.  But,  if  you  render  any  service 
that  seems  to  us  worth  ten  and  a  hundred  times  more 
than  our  own  labor,  why,  then  you  shall  get  a  hun- 
dred times  more  for  it  too;  we,  on  the  other  hand,  think 
also  to  produce  for  you  things  for  which  you  will  requite 
us  more  highly  than  with  the  ordinary  day's  wages.  We 
shall  be  willing  to  get  along  with  each  other  all  right,  if 
only  we  have  first  agreed  on  this — that  neither  any  longer 
needs  to — present  anything  to  the  other.  Then  we  may 
perhaps  actually  go  so  far  as  to  pay  even  the  cripples 
and  sick  and  old  an  appropriate  price  for  not  parting 
from  us  by  hunger  and  want ;  for,  if  we  want  them  to 
live,  it  is  fitting  also  that  we — purchase  the  fulfilment  of 
our  will.  I  say  ''purchase/'  and  therefore  do  not  mean 
a  wretched  "alms."  For  their  life  is  the  property  even 
of  those  who  cannot  work ;  if  we  (no  matter  for  what 
reason)  want  them  not  to  withdraw  this  life  from  us, 
we  can  mean  to  bring  this  to  pass  only  by  purchase ;  nay, 
we  shall  perhaps  (maybe  because  we  like  to  have  friend- 
ly faces  about  us)  even  want  a  life  of  comfort  for  them. 
In  short,  we  want  nothing  presented  by  you,  but  neither 
will  we  present  you  with  anything.  For  centuries  we 
have  handed  alms  to  you  from  good-hearted — stupidity, 
have  doled  out  the  mite  of  the  poor  and  given  to  the 
masters  the  things  that  are — not  the  masters';  now  just 
open  your  wallet,  for  henceforth  our  ware  rises  in  price 
quite  enormously.  We  do  not  want  to  take  from  you 
anything,  anything  at  all,  only  you  are  to  pay  better  for 
what  you  Vv^ant  to  have.  What  then  have  you?  'T  have 
an  estate  of  a  thousand  acres."  And  I  am  your  plow- 
man, and  will  henceforth  attend  to  your  fields  only  for 
one  thaler  a  day  wages.  'Then  I'll  take  another."  You 
won't  find  any,  for  we  plowmen  are  no  longer  doing 
otherwise,  and,  if  one  puts  in  an  appearance  who  takes 


THE  OWNER 


285- 


less,  then  let  him  beware  of  us.  There  is  the  housemaid, 
she  too  is  now  demanding  as  much^  and  you  will  no  longer 
find  one  below  this  price.  ''Why,  then  it  is  all  over  with 
me."  Not  so  fast !  You  will  doubtless  take  in  as  much 
as  we ;  and,  if  it  should  not  be  so,  we  will  take  ofif  so 
much  that  you  shall  have  wherewith  to  live  like  us.  ''But 
I  am  accustomed  to  live  better.''  We  have  nothing 
against  that,  but  it  is  not  our  lookout;  if  you  can  clear 
more,  go  ahead.  Are  we  to  hire  out  under  rates,  that 
you  may  have  a  good  living  ?  The  rich  man  always  puts 
off  the  poor  with  the  words,  "What  does  your  want  con- 
cern me?  See  to  it  how  you  make  your  way  through 
the  world ;  that  is  your  affair,  not  mine."  Well,  let  us 
let  it  be  our  affair,  then,  and  let  us  not  let  the  means  that 
we  have  to  realize  full  value  from  ourselves  be  pilfered 
from  us  by  the  rich.  "But  you  uncultured  people  really 
do  not  need  so  much."  Well,  we  are  taking  somewhat 
more  in  order  that  for  it  we  may  procure  the  culture  that 
we  perhaps  need.  "But,  if  you  thus  bring  down  the  rich, 
who  is  then  to  support  the  arts  and  sciences  hereafter?" 
Oh,  well,  we  must  make  it  up  by  numbers ;  we  club  to- 
gether, that  gives  a  nice  little  sum — besides,  you  rich 
men  now  buy  only  the  most  tasteless  books  and  the  most 
lamentable  Madonnas  or  a  pair  of  lively  dancer's  legs. 
"O  ill-starred  equality !"  No,  my  good  old  sir,  nothing 
of  equality.  We  only  want  to  count  for  what  we  are 
worth,  and,  if  you  are  worth  more,  you  shall  count  for 
more  right  along.  We  only  want  to  be  worth  our  price, 
and  think  to  show  ourselves  worth  the  price  that  you 
will  pay. 

Is  the  State  likely  to  be  able  to  awaken  so  secure  a 
temper  and  so  forceful  a  self-consciousness  in  the  men- 
ial? Can  it  make  man  feel  himself?  nay,  may  it  even 
do  so  much  as  set  this  goal  for  itself?  Can  it  want  the 
individual  to  recognize  his  value  and  realize  this  value 
from  himself?  Let  us  keep  the  parts  of  the  double 
question  separate,  and  see  first  whether  the  State  can 
bring  about  such  a  thing.  As  the  unanimity  of  the  plow- 
men is  required,  only  this  unanimity  can  bring  it  to  pass. 


286 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  DW'N 


and  a  State  law  would  be  evaded  in,  a  thousand  ways  by 
competition  and  in  secret.  But  can  the  State  bear  with 
it?  The  State  cannot  possibly  bear  with  people's  suffering 
coercion  from  another  than  it ;  it  could  not,  therefore, 
admit  the  self-help  of  the  unanimous  plowmen  against 
those  who  want  to  engage  for  lower  wages.  Suppose, ' 
however,  that  the  State  made  the  law,  and  all  the  plow- 
men were  in  accord  with  it:  could  the  State  bear  witth 
it  tihen? 

In  the  isolated  case — yes ;  but  the  isolated  case  is  more 
than  that;,  it  is  a  case  of  principle.  The  question  therein 
is  of  the  whole  range  of  the  ego's  self-realization  of  value 
from  himself,  and  therefore  also  of  his  self -consciousness 
against  the  State.  So  far  the  Communists  keep  com- 
pany; but,  as  self-realization  of  value  from  self  neces- 
sarily directs  itself  against  the  State,  so  it  does  against 
society  too,  and  therewith  reaches  out  beyond  the  com- 
mune and  the  communisitc — out  of  egoism. 

Communism  makes  the  maxim  of  the-  commonalty,  that 
every  one  is  a  possessor  ("proprietor''),  into  an  irre- 
fragable truth,  into  a  reality,  since  the  anxiety  about 
obtaining  now  ceases  and  every  one  has  from  the  start 
what  he  requires.  In  his  labor-force  he  has  his  compe- 
tence, and,  if  he  makes  no  use  of  it,  that  is  his  fault.  The 
grasping  and  hounding  is  at  an  end,  and  no  competition 
is  left  (as  so  often  now)  without  fruit,  because  with 
every  stroke  of  labor  and  adequate  supply  of  the  need- 
ful is  brought  into  the  house.  Now  for  the  first  time 
one  is  a  real  possessor,  because  what  one  has  in  his  labor- 
force  can  no  longer  escape  from  him  as  it  was  continually 
threatening  to  do  under  the  system  of  competition.  One 
is  a  care-free  and  assured  possessor.  And  one  is  this 
precisely  by  seeking  his  competence  no  longer  in  a  ware, 
but  in  his  own  labor,  his  competence  for  labor ;  and  there- 
fore by  being  ragamuffin,  a  man  of  only  ideal  wealth. 
/,  however,  cannot  content  myself  with  the  little  that  I 
scrape  up  by  my  competence  for  labor,  because  my  com- 
petence does  not  consist  merely  in  my  labor. 

By  labor  I  can  perform  the  official  functions  of  a  pres- 


THE  OWNER 


287 


ident,  a  minister,  etc. :  these  offices  demand  only  a  general 
culture — to  wit,  such  a  culture  as  is  generally  attainable 
(for  general  culture  is  not  merely  that  which  every  one 
has  attained,  but  broadly  that  which  every  one  can  attain, 
and  therefore  every  special  culture,  e,  g.  medical,  mili- 
tary, philological,  of  which  no  ''cultivated  man"  believes 
that  they  surpass  his  powers),  or,  broadly,  only  a  skill 
possible  to  all. 

But,  even  if  these  offices  may  vest  in  every  one, 
yet  it  is  only  the  individual's  unique  force,  peculiar  to 
him  alone,  that  gives  them,  so  to  speak,  life  and  signifi- 
cance. That  he  does  not  manage  his  office  like  an  ''ordi- 
nary man/'  but  puts  in  the  competence  of  his  uniqueness, 
this  he  is  not  yet  paid  for  when  he  is  paid  only  in  gen- 
eral as  an  official  or  a  minister.  If  he  has  done  it  so  as 
to  earn  your  thanks,  and  you  wish  to  retain  this  thank- 
worthy force  of  the  unique  one,  you  must  hot  pay  him 
like  a  mere  man  who  performed  only  what  was  human, 
but  as  one  who  accomplishes  what  is  unique.  Do  the  like 
with  your  labor,  do! 

There  cannot  be  a  general  schedule-price  fixed  for  my 
uniqueness  as  there  can  for  what  I  do  as  man.  Only  lor 
the  latter  can  a  schedule-price  be  set. 

Go  right  on,  then,  setting  up  a  general  appraisal  for 
human  labors,  but  do  not  deprive  your  uniqueness  of 
its  desert. 

Human  or  general  needs  can  be  satisfied  through  so- 
ciety ;  for  satisfaction  of  unique  needs  you  must  do  some 
seeking.  A  friend  and  a  friendly  service,  or  even  an 
individual's  service,  society  cannot  procure  you.  And  yet 
you  will  every  moment  be  in  need  of  such  a  service,  and 
on  the  slightest  occasions  require  somebody  who  is  help- 
ful to  you.  Therefore  do  not  rely  on  society,  but  see  to 
it  that  you  have  the  wherewithal  to — purchase  the  fulfil- 
ment of  your  wishes. 

Whether  money  is  to  be  retained  among  egoists? — To 
the  old  stamp  an  inherited  possession  adheres.  If  you  no 
longer  let  yourselves  be  paid  with  it,  it  is  ruined:  if 
you  do  nothing  for  this  money,  it  loses  all  power.  Cancel 


288 


THE  EGO'  AND  HIS  OWN 


the  inheritance,  and  you  have  broken  off  the  executor's 
court-seal.  For  now  everything  is  an  inheritance,  whether 
it  be  already  inherited  or  await  its  heir.  If  it  is  yours, 
wherefore  do  you  let  it  be  sealed  up  from  you?  why  do 
you  respect  the  seal? 

But  why  should  you  not  create  a  new  money  ?  Do  you 
then  annihilate  the  ware  in  taking  from  it  the  hereditary 
stamp?  Now,  money  is  a  ware,  and  an  essential  means 
or  competence.  For  it  protects  against  the  ossification 
of  resources,  keeps  them  in  flux  and  brings  to  pass  their 
exchange.  If  you  know  a  better  medium  of  exchange, 
go  ahead;  yet  it  will  be  a  "money''  again.  It  is  not  the 
money  that  does  you  damage,  but  your  incompetence  to 
take  it.  Let  your  competence  take  effect,  collect  your- 
selves, and  there  will  be  no  lack  of  money — of  your 
money,  the  money  of  your  stamp.  But  working  I  do  not 
call  '^letting  your  competence  take  effect."  Those  who 
are  only  "looking  for  work"  and  "willing  to  work  hard" 
are  preparing  for  their  own  selves  the  infallible  upshot 
— to  be  out  of  work. 

Good  and  bad  luck  depend  on  money.  It  is  a  power 
in  the  bourgeois  period  for  this  reason,  that  is  only 
wooed  on  all  hands  like  a  girl,  indissolubly  wedded  by 
nobody.  All  the  romance  and  chivalry  of  wooing  for  a 
dear  object  come  to  life  again  in  competition.  Money,  an 
object  of  longing,  is  carried  off  by  the  bold  "knights  of 
industry.""^' 

He  who  has  luck  takes  home  the  bride.  The  raga- 
muffin has  luck;  he  takes  her  into  his  household,  "soci- 
ety," and  destroys  the  virgin.  In  his  house  she  is  no 
longer  bride,  but  wife ;  and  with  her  virginity  her  family 
name  is  also  lost.  As  housewife  the  maiden  Money  is 
called  "Labor,"  for  "Labor"  is  her  husband's  name.  She 
is  a  possession  of  her  husband's. 

To  brin^  this  fi^re  to  an  end,  the  child  of  Labor  and 
Monev  is  aeain  a  eirl,  an  unwedded  one  and  therefore 
Money,  but  with  the  certain  descent  from  Labor,  her 


*  [A  German  phrase  for  sharpers.] 


THE  OWNER 


289 


father.  The  form  of  the  face,  the  "effigy/  bears  another 
stamp. 

Finally,  as  regards  competition  once  more,  it  has  a 
continued  existence  by  this  very  means,  that  all  do  not 
attend  to  their  affair  and  come  to  an  understanding  with 
each  other  about  it.  Bread,  e,  g.,  is  a  need  of  all  the  in- 
habitants of  a  city ;  therefore  they  might  easily  agree  on 
setting  up  a  public  bakery.  Instead  of  this,  they  leave 
the  furnishing  of  the  needful  to  the  competing  bakers. 
Just  so  meat  to  the  butchers,  wine  to  the  wine-dealers,  etc. 

xA.bolishing  competition  is  not  equivalent  to  favoring 
the  guild.  The  difference  is  this :  In  the  guild  baking,  etc  , 
IS  the  affair  of  guild-brothers;  in  competition,  the  affair 
of  chance  competitors;  in  the  union,  of  those  who  re- 
quire baked  goods,  and  therefore  my  affair,  yours,  the 
affair  of  neither  the  guildic  nor  the  concessionary  baker, 
but  the  affair  of  the  united. 

If  /  do  not  trouble  myself  about  my  affair,  I  must  be 
content  with  what  it  pleases  others  to  vouchafe  me.  To 
have  bread  is  my  affair,  my  wish  and  desire,  and  yet 
people  leave  that  to  the  bakers  and  hope  at  most  to  ob- 
tain through  their  wrangling,  their  getting  ahead  of  each 
other,  their  rivalry — in  short,  their  competition — and  ad- 
vantage which  one  could  not  count  on  in  the  case  of  the 
guild-brothers  who  were  lodged  entirely  and  alone  in  the 
proprietorship  of  the  baking  franchise. — What  every  one 
requires,  every  one  should  also  take  a  hand  in  procuring 
and  producing ;  it  is  his  affair,  his  property,  not  the  prop- 
erty of  the  guildic  or  concessionary  master. 

Let  us  look  back  once  more.  The  world  belongs  to 
the  children  of  this  world,  the  children  of  men ;  it  is  no 
longer  Gods  world,  but  man's.  As  much  as  every  man 
can  procure  of  it,  let  him  call  his;  only  the  true  man, 
the  State,  human  society  or  mankind,  will  look  to  it  that 
each  shall  make  nothing  else  his  own  than  what  he  ap- 
propriates as  man,  i.  e.  in  human  fashion.  Unhuman  ap- 
propriation is  that  which  is  not  consented  to  by  man,  i,  e, 
it  is  a  ''criminal"  appropriation,  as  the  human  vice  versa, 
is  a  ''rightful"  one,  one  acquired  in  the  "way  of  law." 


290 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


So  they  talk  since  the  Revolution. 

But  my  property  is  not  a  thing,  since  this  has  an  exist- 
ence independent  of  me ;  only  my  might  is  my  own.  Not 
this  tree,  but  my  might  or  control  over  it,  is  what  is 
mine. 

Now,  how  is  this  might  perversely  expressed?  They 
say  I  have  a  right  to  this  tree,  or  it  is  my  rightful  prop- 
erty. So  I  have  earned  it  by  might.  That  the  might 
must  last  in  order  that  the  tree  may  also  be  held — or 
better,  that  the  might  is  not  a  thing  exising  of  itself,  but 
has  existence  solely  in  the  mighty  ego,  in  me  the  mighty 
— is  forgotten.  Might,  like  other  of  my  qualities  (e,  g. 
humanity,  majesty,  etc.),  is  exalted  to  something  exist- 
ing of  itself,  so  that  it  still  exists  long  after  it  has  ceased 
to  be  my  right.  Thus  transformed  into  a  ghost,  mi£ht 
is — right.  This  eternalized  might  is  not  extinguished  even 
with  my  death,  but  is  transferred  or  ''bequeathed." 

Things  now  really  belong  not  to  me,  but  to  right. 

On  the  other  side,  this  is  nothing  but  a  hallucination 
of  vision.  For  the  individual's  might  becomes  perman- 
ent and  a  right  only  by  others  joining  their  might  with 
his.  The  delusion  consists  in  their  believing  that  they 
cannot  withdraw  their  might.  The  same  phenomenon 
over  again;  might  is  separated  from  me.  I  cannot  take 
back  the  might  that  I  give  to  the  possessor.  One  has 
''granted  power  of  attorney,''  has  given  away  his  power, 
has  renounced  coming  to  a  better  mind. 

The  proprietor  can  give  up  his  might  and  his  right 
to  a  thing  by  giving  the  thing  away,  squandering  it,  and 
the  like.  And  we  should  not  be  able  likewise  to  let  go 
the  might  that  we  lend  to  him? 

The  rightful  man,  the  just,  desires  to  call  nothing  his 
own  that  he  does  not  have  "rightly"  or  have  the  right  to, 
and  therefore  only  legitimate  property. 

Now,  who  is  to  be  judge,  and  adjudge  his  right  to 
him?  At  last,  surely,  Man,  who  imparts  to  him  the 
rights  of  man;  then  he  can  say,  in  an  infinitely  broader 
sense  than  Terence,  humani  nihil  a  me  alienum  puto,  i.  e. 
the  human  is  my  property.   However  he  mav  go  about  it, 


THE  OWNER 


291 


so  long  as  he  occupies  this  standpoint  he  cannot  get  clear 
of  a  judge;  and  in  our  time  the  multifarious  judges  that 
had  been  selected  have  set  themselves  against  each  other 
in  two  persons  at  deadly  enmity — to  wit,  in  God  and 
Man.  The  one  party  appeal  to  divine  right,  the  other 
to  human  right  or  the  rights  of  man. 

So  much  is  clear,  that  in  neither  case  does  the  in- 
dividual do  the  entitling  himself. 

Just  pick  me  out  an  action  to-day  that  would  not  be 
a  violation  of  right !  Every  moment  the  rights  of  man  are 
trampled  under  foot  by  one  side,  while  their  opponents 
cannot  open  their  mouth  without  uttering  a  blasphemy 
against  divine  right.  Give  an  alms,  you  mock  at  a  right 
of  man,  because  the  relation  of  beggar  and  benefactor  is 
an  inhuman  relation;  utter  a  doubt,  you  sin  against  a 
divine  right.  Eat  dry  bread  with  contentment,  you  violate 
the  right  of  man  by  your  equanimity ;  eat  it  with  discon- 
tent, you  revile  divine  right  by  your  repining.  There  is 
not  one  among  you  who  does  not  commit  a  crime  at 
every  moment ;  your  speeches  are  crimes,  and  every  hind- 
rance to  your  freedom  of  speech  is  no  less  a  crime.  Ye 
are  criminals  altogether! 

Yet  you  are  so  only  in  that  you  all  stand  on  the  ground 
of  right;  i,  e.,  in  that  you  do  not  even  know,  and  under- 
stand how  to  value,  the  fact  that  you  are  criminals. 
•   Inviolable  or  sacred  property  has  grown  on  this  very 
ground :  it  is  a  juridical  concept. 

A  dog  sees  the  bone  in  another's  power,  and  stands 
off  only  if  it  feels  itself  too  weak.  But  man  respects  the 
other's  right  to  his  bone.  The  latter  action,  therefore, 
ranks  as  human,  the  former  as  brutal  or  ''egoistic.'' 

And  as  here,  so  in  general,  it  is  called  ''human''  when 
one  sees  in  everything  something  spiritual  (here  right )^ 
i  e.  makes  everything  a  ghost  and  takes  his  attitude  to- 
ward it  as  toward  a  ghost,  which  one  can  indeed  scare 
away  as  its  appearance,  but  cannot  kill.  It  is  human  to 
look  at  what  is  individual  not  as  individual,  but  as  a 
generality. 

In  nature  as  such  I  no  longer  respect  anything,  but 


292 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


know  myself  to  be  entitled  to  everything  against  it;  in  the  i 
tree  that  in  that  garden,  on  the  other  hand,  I  must  respect 
alienness  (they  say  in  one-sided  fashion  ''property"),  I 
must  keep  my  hand  off  it.  This  comes  to  an  end  only 
when  I  can  indeed  leave  that  tree  to  another  as  I  leave 
my  stick,  etc.,  to  another,  but  do  not  in  advance  regard 
it  a£  alien  to  me,  i.  e.  sacred.  Rather,  I  make  to  myself 
no  crime  of  felling  it  if  I  will,  and  it  remains  my  prop-  ^ 
erty,  however  long  I  resign  it  to  others:  it  is  and  re- 
mains mine.  In  the  banker's  fortune  I  as  little  see  any- 
thing alien  as  Napoleon  did  in  the  territories  of  kings : 
w^e  have  no  dread  of  ''conquering '  it,  and  we  look  about 
us  also  for  the  means  thereto.  We  strip  off  from  it, 
therefore,  the  spirit  of  alienness,  of  which  we  had  been 
afraid. 

Therefore  it  is  necessary  that  I  do  not  lay  claim  to 
anything  more  as  man,  but  to  everything  as  I,  this  I; 
and  accordingly  to  nothing  human,  but  to  mine;  i,  e, 
nothing  that  pertains  to  me  as  man,  but — what  I  will  and 
because  I  will  it. 

Rightful,  or  legitimate,  property  of  another  will  be 
only  that  which  you  are  content  to  recognize  as  such.  If 
your  content  ceases,  then  this  property  has  lost  legitimacy 
for  you,  and  you  will  laugh  at  absolute  right  to  it. 

Besides  the  hitherto  discussed  property  in  the  limited 
sense,  there  is  held  up  to  our  reverent  heart  another  prop- 
erty against  which  we  are  far  less  "to  sin.''  This  prop- 
erty consists  in  spiritual  goods,  in  the  '"sanctuary  of  the 
inner  nature."  What  a  man  holds  sacred,  no  other  is  to 
gibe  at ;  because,  untrue  as  it  may  be,  and  zealously  as 
one  may  ''in  loving  and  modest  wise"  seek  to  convince 
of  a  true  sanctity  the  man  who  adheres  to  it  and  believes  in 
it,  yet  the  sacred  itself  is  always  to  be  honored  in  it:  the 
mistaken  man  does  believe  in  the  sacred,  even  though  in 
an  incorrect  essence  of  it,  and  so  his  belief  in  the  sacred 
must  at  least  be  respected. 

In  ruder  times  than  ours  it  was  customarv  to  demand 
a  particular  faith,  and  devotion  to  a  particular  sacred 
essence,  and  they  did  not  take  the  gentlest  way  with 


THE  OWNER 


293 


those  who  beheved  otherwise;  since,  however,  ireedom 
of  beUef  spread  itself  more  and  more  abroad,  the  ''jeal- 
ous God  and  sole  Lord''  gradually  melted  into  a  pretty 
general  ''supreme  being,"  and  it  satisfied  humane  toler- 
ance if  only  every  one  revered  "something  sacred." 

Reduced  to  the  most  human  expression,  this  sacred 
essence  is  "man  himself"  and  "the  human."  With  the 
deceptive  semblance  as  if  the  human  were  altogether  our 
own,  and  free  from  all  the  other worldliness  with  which 
the  divine  is  tainted — yes,  as  if  Man  were  as  much  as 
I  or  you — there  may  arise  even  the  proud  fancy  that  the 
talk  is  no  longer  of  a  "sacred  essence"  and  that  we  now 
feel  ourselves  everywhere  at  home  and  no  longer  in  the 
uncanny,"^  i.  e.  in  the  sacred  and  in  sacred  awe:  in  the 
ecstasy  over  "Man  discovered  at  last"  the  egoistic  cry  of 
pain  passes  unheard,  and  the  spook  that  has  become  so 
intimate  is  taken  for  our  true  ego. 

But  "Humanus  is  the  saint's  name"  (see  Goethe),  and 
the  humane  is  only  the  most  clarified  sanctity. 

The  egoist  makes  the  reverse  declaration.  For  this 
precise  reason,  because  you  hold  something  sacred,  I 
gibe  at  you;  and,  even  if  I  respected  everything  in  you, 
your  sanctuary  is  precisely  what  I  should  not  respect. 

With  these  opposed  views  there  must  also  be  assumed 
a  contradictory  relation  to  spiritual  goods :  the  egoist  in- 
sults them,  the  religious  man  (i.  e,  every  one  who  puta 
his  "essence"  above  himself)  must  consistently — protect 
them.  But  what  kind  of  spiritual  goods  are  to  be  pro- 
tected, and  what  left  unprotected,  depends  entirely  on  the 
concept  that  one  forms  of  the  "supreme  being" ;  and  he 
who  fears  God,  e.  g.,  has  more  to  shelter  than  he  (the 
liberal)  who  fears  Man. 

In  spiritual  goods  we  are  (in  distinction  from  the 
sensuous)  injured  in  a  spiritual  way,  and  the  sin  against 
them  consists  in  a  direct  desecration,  while  against  the 
sensuous  a  purloining  or  alienation  takes  place ;  the  goods 
themselves  are  robbed  of  value  and  of  consecration,  not 


*  [Literally,  "unhomely."] 


294 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


merely  taken  away;  the  sacred  is  immediately  com- 
promised. With  the  word  ''irreverence"  or  ^'flippancy" 
is  designated  everything  that  can  be  committed  as  crime 
against  spiritual  goods,  i,  e,  against  everything  that  is 
sacred  for  us ;  and  scoffing,  reviling,  contempt,  doubt,  : 
and  the  like,  are  only  different  shades  of  criminal  flip-  | 
pancy. 

That  desecration  can  oe  practised  in  the  most  mani- 
fold wise  is  here  to  be  passed  over,  and  only  that  desecra-  j 
tion  is  to  be  preferentially  mentioned  which  threatens  1 
the  sacred  with  danger  through  an  unrestricted  press. 

As  long  as  respect  is  demanded  even  for  one  spirit- 
ual essence,  speech  and  the  press  must  be  enthralled  in 
the  name  of  this  essence ;  for  just  so  long  the  egoist 
might  "trespass"  against  it  hy  his  utterances,  from  which 
thing  he  must  be  hindered  by  ''due  punishment"  at  least, 
if  one  does  not  prefer  to  take  up  the  more  correct  means 
against  it,  the  preventive  use  of  police  authority,  e.  g. 
censorship. 

What  a  sighing  for  liberty  of  the  press!  What  then 
is  the  press  to  be  liberated  from?  Surely  from  a  de- 
pendence, a  belonging,  and  a  liability  to  service!  But 
to  liberate  himself  from  that  is  every  one's  affair,  and 
it  may  with  safety  be  assumed  that,  when  you  have 
delivered  yourself  from  liability  to  service,  that  which 
you  compose  and  write  will  also  belong  to  you  as  your 
own  instead  of  having  been  thought  and  indited  in  the 
service  of  some  power.  What  can  a  believer  in  Christ 
say  and  have  printed,  that  should  be  freer  from  that  be- 
lief in  Christ  than  he  himself  is?  HI  cannot  or  may 
not  write  something,  perhaps  the  primary  fault  lies  with 
me.  Little  as  this  seems  to  hit  the  point,  so  near  is  the 
application  nevertheless  to  be  found.  By  a  press-law  I 
draw  a  boundary  for  my  publications,  or  let  one  be 
drawn,  beyond  which  wrong  and  its  punishment  follows. 
I  myself  limit  myself. 

If  the  press  was  to  be  free,  nothing  would  be  so  im- 
portant as  precisely  its  liberation  from  every  coercion 
that  could  be  put  on  it  in  the  name  of  a  law.    Ar\d,  that 


THE  OWNER 


295 


it  might  come  to  that,  I  my  own  self  should  have  to  have 
absolved  myself  from  obedience  to  the  law. 

Certainly,  the  absolute  liberty  of  the  press  is  like 
every  absolute  liberty,  a  nonentity.  The  press  can  be- 
come free  from  full  many  a  thing,  but  always  only  from 
what  I  too  am  free  from.  If  we  make  ourselves  free 
from  the  sacred,  if  we  have  become  graceless  and  law- 
less, our  words  too  will  become  so. 

As  little  as  we  can  be  declared  clear  of  every  coer- 
cion in  the  world,  so  little  can  our  writing  be  withdrawn 
from  it.  But  as  free  as  we  are,  so  free  we  can  make 
it  too. 

It  must  therefore  become  our  own,  instead  of,  as 
hitherto,  serving  a  spook. 

People  do  not  yet  know  what  they  mean  by  their  cry 
for  liberty  of  the  press.  What  they  ostensibly  ask  is  that 
the  State  shall  set  the  press  free;  but  what  they  are 
really  after,  without  knowing  it  themselves,  is  that  the 
press  become  free  from  the  State,  or  clear  of  the  State. 
The  former  is  a  petition  to  the  State,  the  latter  an  in- 
surrection against  the  State.  As  a  ''petition  for  right,'' 
even  as  a  serious  demanding  of  the  right  of  liberty  of 
the  press,  it  presupposes  the  State  as  the  giver,  and  can 
hope  only  for  a  present,  a  permission,  a  chartering.  Pos- 
sible, no  doubt,  that  a  State  acts  so  senselessly  as  to 
grant  the  demanded  present ;  but  you  may  bet  everything 
that  those  who  receive  the  present  will  not  know  how 
to  use  it  so  long  as  they  regard  the  State  as  a  truth :  they 
will  not  trespass  against  this  ''sacred  thing,"  and  will 
call  for  a  penal  press-law  against  every  one  who  would 
be  willing  to  dare  this. 

In  a  word,  the  press  does  not  become  free  from  what 
I  am  not  free  from. 

Do  I  perhaps  hereby  show  myself  an  opponent  of  the 
liberty  of  the  press?  On  the  contrary,  I  only  assert  that 
one  will  never  get  it  if  one  wants  only  it,  the  liberty  of 
the  press,  i,  e.  if  one  sets  out  only  for  an  unrestricted 
permission.  Only  beg  right  along  for  this  permission : 
you  may  wait  forever  for  it,  for  there  is  no  one  in  the 


296  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


world  who  could  give  it  to  you.  As  long  as  you  want 
to  have  yourselves  ''entitled"  to  the  use  of  the  press  by 
a  permission,  i.  e.  liberty  of  the  press,  you  live  in  vain 
hope  and  complaint. 

''Nonsense!  Why,  you  yourself,  who  harbor  such 
thoughts  as  stand  in  your  book^  can  unfortunately  bring 
them  to  publicity  only  through  a  lucky  chance  or  by 
stealth ;  nevertheless  you  will  inveigh  against  one's  press- 
ing and  importuning  his  own  State  till  it  gives  the  refused 
permission  to  print?"  But  an  author  thus  addressed 
would  perhaps — for  the  impudence  of  such  people  goes 
far — give  the  following  reply :  "Consider  well  what  you 
say!  What  then  do  I  do  to  procure  myself  liberty  of 
th^  press  for  my  book?  Do  I  ask  for  permission,  or  do 
I  not  rather,  without  any  question  of  legality,  seek  a 
favorable  occasion  and  grasp  it  in  complete  recklessness 
of  the  State  and  its  wishes?  I — the  terrifying  word 
must  be  uttered — I  cheat  the  State.  You  unconsciously 
do  the  same.  From  your  tribunes  you  talk  it  into  the 
idea  that  it  must  give  up  its  sanctity  and  inviolability,  it 
must  lay  itself  bare  to  the  attacks  of  writers,  without 
needing  on  that  account  to  fear  danger.  But  you  are 
imposing  on  it ;  for  its  existence  is  done  for  as  soon  as 
it  loses  its  unapproachableness.  To  you  indeed  it  might 
well  accord  liberty  of  writing,  as  England  has  done ;  yon 
are  believers  in  the  State  and  incapable  of  writing  against 
the  State,  however  much  you  would  like  to  reform  it 
and  'remedy  its  defects.'  But  what  if  opponents  of  the 
State  availed  themselves  of  free  utterance,  and  stormed 
out  against  Church,  State,  morals,  and  everything  'sacred' 
with  inexorable  reasons?  You  would  then  be  the  first, 
in  terrible  agonies,  to  call  into  life  the  September  laws. 
Too  late  would  you  then  rue  the  stupidity  that  earlier 
made  you  so  ready  to  fool  and  palaver  into  compli- 
ance the  State,  or  the  government  of  the  State. — But 
I  prove  by  my  act  only  two  things.  This  for  one, 
that  the  liberty  of  the  press  is  always  bound  to  'favor- 
able opportunities,'  and  accordingly  will  never  be  an  ab- 
solute liberty ;  but  secondly  this,  that  he  who  would  enjoy 


THE  OWNER 


297 


it  must  seek  out  and,  if  possible,  create  the  favorable 
opportunity,  availing  himself  of  his  own  advantage 
against  the  State,  and  counting  himself  and  his  will  more 
than  the  State  and  every  'superior*  power.  Not  in  the 
State,  but  only  against  it,  can  the  liberty  of  the  press  be 
carried  through ;  if  it  is  to  be  established,  it  is  to  be  ob- 
tained not  as  the  consequence  of  a  petition  but  as  the 
work  of  an  insurrection.  Every  petition  and  every  motion 
for  liberty  of  the  press  is  already  an  insurrection,  be  it  con- 
scious or  unconscious:  a  thing  which  Philistine  halfness 
alone  will  not  and  cannot  confess  to  itself  until,  with  a 
shrinking  shudder,  it  shall  see  it  clearly  and  irrefutably 
by  the  outcome.  For  the  requested  liberty  of  the  press 
has  indeed  a  friendly  and  well-meaning  face  at  the  be- 
ginning, as  it  is  not  in  the  least  minded  ever  to  let  the 
^insolence  of  the  press'  come  into  vogue;  but  little  by 
little  its  heart  grows  more  hardened,  and  the  inference 
flatters  its  way  in  that  really  a  liberty  is  not  a  liberty  if 
it  stands  in  the  service  of  the  State,  of  morals,  or  of  the 
law.  A  liberty  indeed  from  the  coercion  of  censorship, 
it  is  yet  not  a  liberty  from  the  coercion  of  law.  The 
press,  once  seized  by  the  lust  for  liberty,  always  wants 
to  grow  freer,  till  at  last  the  writer  says  to  himself,  Really 
I  am  not  wholly  free  till  I  ask  about  nothing;  and  writing 
is  free  only  when  it  is  my  own,  dictated  to  me  by  no  power 
or  authority,  by  no  faith,  no  dread ;  the  press  must  not  be 
free — that  is  too  little — it  must  be  mine! — ownness  of 
the  press  or  property  in  the  press,  that  is  what  I  will  take. 

'Why,  liberty  of  the  press  is  only  permission  of  the 
press,  and  the  State  never  will  or  can  voluntarily  permit 
me  to  grind  it  to  nothingness  by  the  press. 

''Let  us  now^  in  conclusion,  bettering  the  above  lan- 
guage, which  is  still  vague,  owing  to  the  phrase  'liberty 
of  the  press,'  rather  put  it  thus :  Liberty  of  the  press,  the 
liberals'  loud  demand,  is  assuredly  possible  in  the  State ; 
yes,  it  is  possible  only  in  the  State,  because  it  is  a  per- 
mission, and  consequently  the  permitter  (the  State) 
must  not  be  lacking.  But  as  permission  it  has  its  limit 
in  this  very  State,  which  surely  should  not  in  reason 


298 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


permit  more  than  is  compatible  with  itself  and  its  wel- 
fare :  the  State  fixes  for  it  this  limit  as  the  law  of  its  ex- 
istence and  of  its  extension.  That  one  State  brooks  more 
than  another  is  only  a  quantitative  distinction,  which 
alone,  nevertheless,  lies  at  the  heart  of  the  political  lib- 
erals :  they  want  in  Germany,  e.  g.,  only  a  'more  ex- 
tended, broader  accordance  of  free  utterance/  The  lib- 
erty of  the  press  which  is  sought  for  is  an  affair  of  the 
people's,  and  before  the  people  (the  State)  possesses  it 
I  may  make  no  use  of  it.  From  the  standpoint  of  prop- 
erty in  the  press,  the  situation  is  different.  Let  my  peo- 
ple, if  they  will,  go  without  liberty  of  the  press,  I  will 
manage  to  print  by  force  or  ruse;  I  get  my  permission  to 
print  only  from — myself  and  my  strength. 

^*If  the  press  is  my  own,  I  as  little  need  a  permission 
of  the  State  for  employing  it  as  I  seek  that  permission 
in  order  to  blow  my  nose.  The  press  is  my  property  from 
the  moment  when  nothing  is  more  to  me  than  myself; 
for  from  this  moment  State,  Church,  people,  society,  and 
the  like,  cease,  because  they  have  to  thank  for  their  exist- 
ence only  the  disrespect  that  I  have  for  myself,  and  with 
the  vanishing  of  this  undervaluation  they  themselves  are 
extinguished:  they  exist  only  when  they  exist  above  me, 
exist  only  as  powers  and  power-holders.  Or  can  you 
imagine  a  State  whose  citizens  one  and  all  think  nothing 
of  it?  it  would  be  as  certainly  a  dream,  an  existence  in 
seeming,  as  ^united  Germany.' 

''The  press  is  my  own  as  soon  as  I  myself  am  my  own, 
a  self-owned  man:  to  the  egoist  belongs  the  world,  be- 
cause he  belongs  to  no  power  of  the  world. 

"With  this  my  press  might  still  be  very  unfree,  as  e.  g.y 
at  this  moment.  But  the  world  is  large,  and  one  helps 
himself  as  well  as  he  can.  If  I  were  willing  to  abate  from 
the  property  of  my  press,  I  could  easily  attain  the  point 
where  I  might  everywhere  have  as  much  printed  as  my 
fingers  produced.  But,  as  I  want  to  assert  my  property, 
I  must  necessarily  swindle  my  enemies.  Would  you  not 
accept  their  permission  if  it  were  given  you?'  Certainly, 
with  joy ;  for  their  permission  would  be  to  me  a  proof 


THE  OWNER 


299 


that  I  had  fooled  them  and  started  them  on  the  road  to 
ruin.  I  am  not  concerned  for  their  permission,  but  so 
much  the  more  for  their  folly  and  their  overthrow.  I  do 
not  sue  for  their  permission  as  if  I  flattered  myself  (like 
the  political  liberals)  that  we  both,  they  and  I,  could 
make  out  peaceably  alongside  and  with  each  other,  yes,, 
probably  raise  and  prop  each  other;  but  I  sue  for  it  in 
order  to  make  them  bleed  to  death  by  it,  that  the  per- 
mitters  themselves  may  cease  at  last.  I  act  as  a  con- 
scious enemy,  overreaching  them  and  utilizing  their  heed- 
lessness. 

"The  press  is  mine  when  I  recognize  outside  myself  no 
judge  whatever  over  its  utilization,  i.  e,  when  my  writing 
is  no  longer  determined  by  morality  or  religion  or  re- 
spect for  the  State  laws  or  the  like,  but  by  me  and  my 
egoism 

Now,  what  have  you  to  reply  to  him  who  gives  you 
so  impudent  an  answer  ? — We  shall  perhaps  put  the  ques- 
tion most  strikingly  by  phrasing  it  as  follows :  Whose  is 
the  press,  the  people's  (State's)  or  mine?  The  politicals 
on  their  side  intend  nothing  further  than  to  liberate  the 
press  from  personal  and  arbitrary  interferences  of  the 
possessors  of  power,  without  thinking  of  the  point  that 
to  be  really  open  for  everybody  it  would  also  have  to  be 
free  from  the  laws,  i.  e,  from  the  people's  (State's)  will. 
They  want  to  make  a  ''people's  affair"  of  it. 

But,  having  become  the  people's  property,  it  is  still 
far  from  being  mine;  rather,  it  retains  for  me  the  sub- 
ordinate significance  of  a  permission.  The  people  plays 
judge  over  my  thoughts;  it  has  the  right  of  calling  me 
to  account  for  them,  or,  I  am  responsible  to  it  for  them. 
Jurors,  when  their  fixed  ideas  are  attacked,  have  just 
as  hard  heads  and  hearts  as  the  stiffest  despots  and  their 
servile  officials. 

In  the  ''Liberale  Bestrebungen''"^  E.  Bauer  asserts  that 
liberty  of  the  press  is  impossible  in  the  absolutist  and  the 
constitutional  State,  whereas  in  the  ''free  State"  it  finds 


*II,  p.  91  ff.    (See  my  note  above.) 


300 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


its  place.  ''Here/'  the  statement  is,  ''it  is  recognized 
that  the  individual,  because  he  is  no  longer  an  individual 
but  a  member  of  a  true  and  rational  generality,  has  the 
right  to  utter  his  mind."  So  not  the  individual,  but  the 
"member,"  has  liberty  of  the  press.  But,  if  for  the  pur- 
pose of  liberty  of  the  press  the  individual  must  first  give 
proof  of  himself  regarding  his  belief  in  the  generality, 
the  people ;  if  he  does  not  have  this  liberty  through  might 
of  his  own — then  it  is  a  people  s  liberty,  a  liberty  that  he 
is  invested  with  for  the  sake  of  his  faith,  his  "member- 
ship." The  reverse  is  the  case :  it  is  precisely  as  an  in- 
dividual that  every  one  has  open  to  him  the  liberty  to 
utter  his  mind.  But  he  has  not  the  "right" ;  that  liberty 
is  assuredly  not  his  "sacred  right."  He  has  only  the 
might;  but  the  might  alone  makes  him  owner.  I  need 
no  concession  for  the  liberty  of  the  press,  do  not  need  the 
people's  consent  to  it,  do  not  need  the  "right"  to  it,  nor 
any  "justification."  The  liberty  of  the  press  too,  like 
every  liberty,  I  must  "take" ;  the  people,  "as  being  the 
sole  judge,"  cannot  give  it  to  me.  It  can  put  up  with  the 
liberty  that  I  take,  or  defend  itself  against  it;  give,  be- 
stow, grant  it  it  cannot.  I  exercise  it  despite  the  people, 
purely  as  an  individual  ]i.  e.l  get  it  by  fighting  the  people, 
my — enemy,  and  obtain  it  only  when  I  really  get  it  by 
such  fighting,  i.  e,  take  it.  But  I  take  it  because  it  is  my 
property. 

Sander,  against  whom  E.  Bauer  writes,  lays  claim  (page 
99)  to  the  liberty  of  the  press  "as  the  right  and  the  lib- 
erty of  the  citizen  of  the  State/'  What  else  does  E.  Bauer 
do?  To  him  also  it  is  only  a  right  of  the  free  citizen. 

The  liberty  of  the  press  is  also  demanded  under  the 
name  of  a  "general  human  right."  Against  this  the  ob- 
jection was  well-founded  that  not  every  man  knew  how  to 
use  it  rightly,  for  not  every  individual  was  truly  man. 
Never  did  a  government  refuse  it  to  Man  as  such;  but 
Man  writes  nothing,  for  the  reason  that  he  is  a  ghost, 
It  always  refused  it  to  individuals  only,  and  gave  it  to 
others,  e.  g.  its  organs.  If  then  one  would  have  it  for 
all,  one  must  assert  outright  that  it  is  due  to  the  in- 


THE  OWNER 


301 


dividual,  me,  not  to  man  or  to  the  individual  so  far  as 
he  is  man.  Besides,  another  than  a  man  (e.  g.  a  beast) 
can  make  no  use  of  it.  The  French  government,  e.  g., 
does  not  dispute  the  liberty  of  the  press  as  a  right  of 
man,  but  demands  from  the  individual  a  security  for  his 
really  being  man;  for  it  assigns  liberty  of  the  press  not 
to  the  individual,  but  to  man. 

Under  the  exact  pretence  that  it  was  not  human  what 
was  mine  was  taken  from  me !  what  was  human  was  left 
to  me  undiminished. 

Liberty  of  the  press  can  bring  about  only  a  responsible 
press;  the  irresponsible  proceeds  solely  from  property  in 
the  press. 

For  intercourse  with  men  an  express  law  (conformity 
to  which  one  may  venture  at  times  sinfully  to  forget, 
but  the  absolute  value  of  which  one  at  no  time  ventures 
to  deny)  is  placed  foremost  among  all  who  live  religious- 
ly :  this  is  the  law — of  love,  to  which  not  even  those  who 
seem  to  fight  against  its  principle,  and  who  hate  its  name, 
have  as  yet  become  untrue ;  for  they  also  still  have  love, 
yes,  they  love  with  a  deeper  and  more  sublimated  love, 
they  love  "man  and  mankind.'' 

If  we  formulate  the  sense  of  this  law,  it  will  be  about 
as  follows :  Every  man  must  have  a  something  that  is 
more  to  him  than  himself.  You  are  to  put  your  ''private 
interest"  in  the  background  when  it  is  a  question  of  the 
welfare  of  others,  the  weal  of  the  fatherland,  of  society, 
the  common  weal,  the  weal  of  mankind,  the  good  cause, 
and  the  like!  Fatherland,  society,  mankind,  etc.,  must 
be  more  to  you  than  yourself,  and  as  against  their  in- 
terest your  ''private  interest"  must  stand  back;  for  you 
must  not  be  an  egoist. 

Love  is  a  far-reaching  religious  demand,  which  is  not, 
as  might  be  supposed,  limited  to  love  to  God  and  man, 
but  stands  foremost  in  every  regard.  Whatever  we  do, 
think,  the  ground  of  it  is  always  to  be  love.  Thus  we 
may  indeed  judge,  but  only  "with  love.''  The  Bible  may 
assuredly  be  criticized,  and  that  very  thoroughly,  but  the 


302 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


critic  must  before  all  things  love  it  and  see  in  it  the 
sacred  book.  Is  this  anything  else  than  to  say  he  must 
not  criticise  it  to  death,  he  must  leave  it  standings  and 
that  as  a  sacred  thing  that  cannot  be  upset? — In  our 
criticism  on  men  too,  love  must  remain  the  unchanged 
key-note.  Certainly  judgments  that  hatred  inspires  are 
not  at  all  our  own  judgments  but  judgments  of  the  hatred 
that  rules  us,  ^'rancorous  judgments."  But  are  judg- 
ments that  love  inspires  in  us  any  more  our  ozvn?  They 
are  judgments  of  the  love  that  rules  us,  they  are  ^'loving, 
lenient"  judgments^  they  are  not  our  own,  and  according- 
ly not  real  judgments  at  all.  He  who  burns  with  love 
for  justice  cries  out,  fiat  justitia,  pereat  mundus.  He 
can  doubtless  ask  and  investigate  what  justice  properly 
is  or  demands,  and  in  what  it  consists,  but  not  whether  it 
is  anything. 

It  is  very  true,  ''He  who  abides  in  love  abides  in  God, 
and  God  in  him."  (John  4,  16.)  God  abides  in  him,  he 
does  not  get  rid  of  God,  does  not  become  godless;  and 
he  abides  in  God,  does  not  come  to  himself  and  into  his 
own  home,  abides  in  love  to  God  and  does  not  become 
loveless. 

''God  is  love !  All  times  and  all  races  recognize  in  this 
word  the  central  point  of  Christianity."  God,  who  is 
love,  is  an  officious  God:  he  cannot  leave  the  world  in 
peace,  but  wants  to  make  it  blest.  "God  became  man  to 
make  men  divine.""^  He  has  his  hand  in  the  game  every- 
where, and  nothing  happens  without  it;  everywhere  he 
has  his  "best  purposes,"  his  "incomprehensible  plans  and 
decrees."  Reason,  which  he  himself  is,  is  to  be  for- 
warded and  realized  in  the  whole  world.  His  fatherly 
care  deprives  us  of  all  independence.  We  can  do  noth- 
ing sensible  without  its  being  said,  God  did  that!  and 
can  bring  upon  ourselves  no  misfortune  without  hearing, 
God  ordained  that ;  we  have  nothing  that  we  have  not 
from  him,  he  "gave"  everything.  But,  as  God  does,  so 
does  Man.     God  wants  perforce  to  make  the  world 


Athanasius. 


THE  OWNER 


303 


blest,  and  Man  wants  to  make  it  happy,  to  make  all  men 
happy.  Hence  every  ''man"  wants  to  awaken  in  all  men 
the  reason  which  he  supposes  his  own  self  to  have: 
everything  is  to  be  rational  throughout.  God  torments 
himself  with  the  devil,  and  the  philosopher  does  it  with 
unreason  and  the  accidental.  God  lets  no  being  go  2/^ 
own  gait,  and  Man  likewise  wants  to  make  us  walk  only 
in  human  wise. 

But  whoso  is  full  of  sacred  (religious,  moral,  humane) 
love  loves  only  the  spook,  the  ''true  man,''  and  persecutes 
with  dull  mercilessness  the  individual,  the  real  man,  under 
the  phlegmatic  legal  title  of  measures  against  the  "un- 
man." He  finds  it  praiseworthy  and  indispensable  to 
exercise  pitilessness  in  the  harshest  measure ;  for  love 
to  the  spook  or  generality  commands  him  to  hate  him 
who  is  not  ghostly,  i.  e.  the  egoist  or  individual;  such 
is  the  meaning  of  the  renowned  love-phenomenon  that  is 
called  "justice." 

The  criminally  arraigned  man  can  expect  no  forbear- 
ance, and  no  one  spreads  a  friendly  veil  over  his  unhappy 
nakedness.  Without  emotion  the  stern  judge  tears  the 
last  rags  of  excuse  from  the  body  of  the  poor  accused; 
without  compassion  the  jailer  drags  him  into  his  damp 
abode;  without  placability,  when  the  time  of  punish- 
ment has  expired,  he  thrusts  the  branded  man  again 
among  men,  his  good.  Christian^  loyal  brethren!  who 
contemptuously  spit  on  him.  Yes,  without  grace  a  crim- 
inal "deserving  of  death"  is  led  to  the  scaffold,  and  be- 
fore the  eyes  of  a  jubilating  crowd  the  appeased  moral 
law  celebrates  its  sublime — revenge.  For  only  one  can 
live,  the  moral  law  or  the  criminal.  Where  criminals 
live  unpunished,  the  moral  law  has  fallen;  and,  where 
this  prevails,  those  must  go  down.  Their  enmity  is  in- 
destructible. 

The  Christian  age  is  precisely  that  of  mercy ,  love,  solici- 
tude to  have  men  receive  what  is  due  them,  yes,  to  bring 
them  to  fulfil  their  bumnn  (divine)  calling.  Therefore 
the  T.rinciple  has  been  p^-  Foremost  for  intercourse^  that 
this    nd  that  is  man's  (      ice  and  consequently  his  call- 


304  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


ing,  to  which  either  God  has  called  him  or  (according  to 
the  concepts  of  to-day)  his  being  man  (the  species)  calls 
him.  Hence  the  zeal  for  conversion.  That  the  Com- 
munists and  the  humane  expect  from  man  more  than 
the  Christians  do  does  not  change  the  standpoint  in  the 
least.  Man  shall  get  what  is  human !  If  it  was  enough 
for  the  pious  that  what  was  divine  became  his  part,  the 
humane  demand  that  he  be  not  curtailed  of  what  is  hu- 
man. Both  set  themselves  against  what  is  egoistic.  Of 
course ;  for  what  is  egoistic  cannot  be  accorded  to  him  or 
vested  in  him  (a  fief)  ;  he  must  procure  it  for  himself. 
Love  imparts  the  former,  the  latter  can  be  given  to  me 
by  myself  alone. 

Intercourse  hitherto  has  rested  on  love,  regardful  be- 
havior, doing  for  each  other.  As  one  owed  it  to  him- 
self to  make  himself  blessed,  or  owed  himself  the  bliss 
of  taking  up  into  himself  the  supreme  essence  and  bring- 
ing it  to  a  V  er  lie  (a  truth  and  reality),  so  one  owed  it  to 
others  to  help  them  realize  their  essence  and  their  call- 
ing: in  both  cases  one  owed  it  to  the  essence  of  man  to 
contribute  to  its  realization. 

But  one  owes  it  neither  to  himself  to  make  anything 
out  of  himself,  nor  to  others  to  make  anything  out  of 
them;  for  one  owes  nothing  to  his  essence  and  that  of 
others.  Intercourse  resting  on  essence  is  an  intercourse 
with  the  spook,  not  with  anything  real.  If  I  hold  inter- 
course with  the  supreme  essence,  I  am  not  holding  inter- 
course with  myself,  and,  if  I  hold  intercourse  with  the 
essence  of  man,  I  am  not  holding  intercourse  with  men. 

The  natural  man's  love  becomes  through  culture  a 
commandment.  But  as  commandment  it  belongs  to  Man 
as  such,  not  to  me;  it  is  my  essence^  about  which  much 
adof  is  made,  not  my  property.  Man,  i.  e.  humanity, 
presents  that  demand  to  me :  love  is  demanded,  it  is  my 
duty.  Instead,  therefore,  of  being  really  won  for  me,  it 
has  been  won  for  the  generality,  Man,  as  his  property  or 


*  [Wesen] 


t  [Wesen] 


THE  OWNEk 


305 


peculiarity:  "it  becomes  man,  i.  e,  every  man,  to  love; 
love  is  the  duty  and  calling  of  man/'  etc. 

Consequently  I  must  again  vindicate  love  for  myself, 
and  deliver  it  out  of  the  power  of  Man  with  the  great  M. 

What  was  originally  mine,  but  accidentally  mine,  in- 
stinctively mine,  I  was  invested  with  as  the  property  of 
Man;  I  became  feoffee  in  loving,  I  became  the  retainer 
of  mankind,  only  a  specimen  of  this  species,  and  acted, 
loving^  not  as  I,  but  as  man,  as  a  specimen  of  man,  i.  e, 
humanly.  The  whole  condition  of  civilization  is  the 
feudal  system,  the  property  being  Man's  or  mankind's, 
not  mine.  A  monstrous  feudal  State  was  founded,  the 
individual  robbed  of  everything,  everything  left  to  ''man." 
The  individual  had  to  appear  at  last  as  a  ''sinner  through 
and  through." 

Am  I  perchance  to  have  no  lively  interest  in  the  per- 
son of  another,  are  his  joy  and  his  weal  not  to  lie  at  my 
heart,  is  the  enjoyment  that  I  furnish  him  not  to  be 
more  to  me  than  other  enjoyments  of  my  own?  On  the 
contrary,  I  can  with  you  sacrifice  to  him  numberless  en- 
joyments, I  can  deny  myself  numberless  things  for  the 
enhancement  of  his  pleasure,  and  I  can  hazard  for  him 
what  without  him  was  the  dearest  to  me,  my  life,  my 
welfare,  my  freedom.  Why,  it  constitutes  my  pleasure 
and  my  happiness  to  refresh  myself  with  his  happiness 
and  his  pleasure.  But  myself,  my  own  self,  I  do  not 
sacrifice  to  him,  but  remain  an  egoist  and — enjoy  him. 
If  I  sacrifice  to  him  everything  that  but  for  my  love  to 
him  I  should  keep,  that  is  very  simple,  and  even  more 
usual  in  life,  than  it  seems  to  be ;  but  it  proves  nothing 
further  than  that  this  one  passion  is  more  powerful  in 
me  than  all  the  rest.  Christianity  too  teaches  us  to  sacri- 
fice all  other  passions  to  this.  But,  of  to  one  passion  I 
sacrifice  others,  I  do  not  on  that  account  go  so  far  as  to 
sacrifice  myself,  nor  sacrifice  anything  of  that  whereby  I 
truly  am  myself ;  I  do  not  sacrifice  my  peculiar  value, 
my  ownness.  Where  this  bad  case  occurs,  love  cuts  no 
better  figure  than  any  other  passion  that  I  obey  blindly. 
The  ambitious  man,  who  is  carried  away  by  ambition 


306 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


and  remains  deaf  to  every  warning  that  a  calm  moment 
begets  in  him^  has  let  this  passion  grow  up  into  a  despot 
against  whom  he  abandons  all  power  of  dissolution:  he 
has  given  up  himself,  because  he  cannot  dissolve  him- 
self, and  consequently  cannot  absolve  himself  from  the 
passion:  he  is  possessed. 

I  love  men  too — not  merely  individuals,  but  every  one. 
But  I  love  them  with  the  consciousness  of  egoism;  I 
love  them  because  love  makes  me  happy,  I  love  because 
loving  is  natural  to  me,  because  it  pleases  me  I  know  no 
'  commandment  of  love.''  I  have  a  fellow  feeling  with 
every  feeling  being,  and  their  torment  torments,  their  re- 
freshment refreshes  me  too;  I  can  kill  them,  not  torture 
them.  Per  contra,  the  high-souled,  virtuous  Philistine 
prince  Rudolph  in  ''The  Mysteries  of  Paris,"  because 
the  wicked  provoke  his  ''indignation,''  plans  their  torture. 
That  fellow-feeling  proves  only  that  the  feeling  of  those 
who  feel  is  mine  too^,  my  property ;  in  opposition  to  which 
the  pitiless  dealing  of  the  "righteous"  man  (e.  g.  against 
notary  Ferrand)  is  like  the  unfeelingness  of  that  robber 
who  cut  off  or  stretched  his  prisoners'  legs  to  the  meas- 
ure of  his  bedstead:  Rudolph's  bedstead,  which  he  cuts 
men  to  fit,  is  the  concept  of  the  "good."  The  feeling  for 
right,  virtue,  etc.,  makes  people  hard-hearted  and  in- 
tolerant. Rudolph  does  not  feel  like  the  notary,  but  the 
reverse;  he  feels  that  "it  serves  the  rascal  right";  that 
is  no  fellow-feeling. 

You  love  man,  therefore  you  torture  the  individual 
man,  the  egoist;  your  philanthropy  (love  of  men)  is  the 
tormenting  of  men. 

If  I  see  the  loved  one  suffer,  I  suffer  with  him,  and 
I  know  no  rest  till  I  have  tried  everything  to  comfort  and 
cheer  him ;  if  I  see  him  glad,  I  too  become  glad  over  his 
joy.  From  this  it  does  not  follow  that  suffering  or  joy 
is  caused  in  me  by  the  same  thing  that  brings  out  this 
effect  in  him,  as  insufficiently  proved  by  every  bodily 
pain  which  I  do  not  feel  as  he  does :  his  tooth  pains  him, 
but  his  pain  pains  me. 

But,  because  /  cannot  bear  the  troubled  crease  on 


THE  OWNER 


307 


the  beloved  forehead,  for  that  reason,  and  therefore  for 
my  sake,  I  kiss  it  away.  If  I  did  not  love  this  person, 
he  might  go  right  on  making  creases,  they  would  not 
trouble  me ;  I  am  only  driving  away  my  trouble. 

How  now,  has  anybody  or  anything,  whom  and  which 
I  do  not  love,  a  right  to  be  loved  by  me  ?  Is  my  love  first, 
or  is  his  right  first?  Parents,  kinsfolk,  fatherland,  na- 
tion, uative  town,  etc.,  finally  fellow-men  in  general 
("brothers,  fraternity''),  assert  that  they  have  a  right 
to  my  love,  and  lay  claim  to  it  without  further  ceremony. . 
They  look  upon  it  as  the  property,  and  upon  me,  if  I  do 
not  respect  this,  as  a  robber  who  takes  from  them  what 
pertains  to  them  and  is  theirs.  I  should  love.  If  love 
is  a  commandment  and  law,  then  I  must  be  educated  into 
it,  cultivated  up  to  it,  and,  if  I  trespass  against  it,  pun- 
ished. Hence  people  will  exercise  as  strong  a  ''moral 
influence''  as  possible  on  me  to  bring  me  to  love.  And 
there  is  no  doubt  that  one  can  work  up  and  seduce  men 
to  love  as  one  can  to  other  passions — e,  g.,  if  you  like,  to 
hate.  Hate  runs  through  whole  races  merely  because  the 
ancestors  of  the  one  belonged  to  the  Guelphs,  those  of  the 
other  to  the  Ghibellines. 

But  love  is  not  a  commandment,  but,  like  each  of  my 
feelings,  my  property.  Acquire^  i.  e.  purchase,  my  prop- 
erty, and  then  I  will  make  it  over  to  you.  A  church,  a 
nation,  a  fatherland,  a  family,  etc.,  that  does  not  know 
how  to  acquire  my  love,  I  need  not  love  and  I  fix  the 
purchase  price  of  my  love  quite  at  my  pleasure. 

Selfish  love  is  far  distant  from  unselfish,  mystical  or 
romantic  love.  One  can  love  everything  possible,  not 
merely  men,  but  an  ''object"  in  general  (win  one's  father- 
land, etc.)  Love  becomes  blind  and  crazy  by  a  must 
taking  it  out  of  my  power  (infatuation),  romantic  by  a 
should  entering  into  it,  i.  e.  the  "object's"  becoming 
sacred  for  me,  or  my  becoming  bound  to  it  by  duty,  con- 

ience,  oath.  Now  the  object  no  longer  exists  for  me, 
but  I  for  it. 

Love  is  a  possessedness,  not  as  my  feeling — as  such  I 
'ather  keep  it  in  my  possession  as  property — but  through 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


the  alienness  of  the  object.  For  rehgious  love  consists  in 
the  commandment  to  love  in  the  beloved  a  "holy  one," 
or  to  adhere  to  a  holy  one ;  for  unselfish  love  there  are 
objects  absolutely  lovable  for  which  my  heart  is  to  beat — 
e.  g,  fellow-men,  or  my  wedded  mate,  kinsfolk,  etc.  Holy 
love  loves  the  holy  in  the  beloved,  and  therefore  exerts 
itself  also  to  make  of  the  beloved  more  and  more  a  holyl 
one  {e.  g.  a  "man''). 

The  beloved  is  an  object  that  should  be  loved  by  meJ 
He  is  not  an  object  of  my  love  on  account  of,  because  of, 
or  by,  my  loving  him,  but  is  an  object  of  love  in  and  of 
himself.  Not  I  make  him  an  object  of  love,  but  he  is 
such  to  begin  with ;  for  it  is  here  irrelevant  that  he  has 
become  so  by  my  choice,  if  so  it  be  as  with  a  fiancee,  a| 
spouse,  and  the  like),  since  even  so  he  has  in  any  case,!: 
as  the  person  once  chosen,  obtained  a  "right  of  his  own  to 
my  love,"  and  I,  because  I  have  loved  him,  am  under 
obligation  to  love  him  forever.  He  is  therefore  not  am 
object  of  my  love,  but  of  love  in  general:  an  object  thatj 
should  be  loved.  Love  appertains  to  him,  is  due  to  him, 
or  is  his  right,  while  I  am  under  obligation  to  love  him. 
My  love,  i,  e.  the  toll  of  love  that  I  pay  him,  is  in  truth 
his  love,  which  he  only  collects  from  me  as  toll. , 

Every  love  to  which  there  clings  but  the  smallest  speck  . 
of  obligation  is  an  unselfish  love,  and,  so  far  as  this  speck  , 
reaches,  a  possessedness.    He  who  believes  that  he  owes  \ 
the  object  of  his  love  anything  loves  romantically  or  relig- 
iously. 

Family  love,  e,  g.,  as  it  is  usually  understood  a  "piety,"  ! 
is  a  religious  love  ;  love  of  fatherland  preached  as  "patriot-r  ^ 
ism,"  likewise.  All  our  romantic  love  moves  in  the  samer^ 
pattern:  everywhere  the  hypocrisy,  or  rather  self-decep-!:^ 
tion,  of  an  "unselfish  love,"  an  interest  in  the  object  forL^ 
the  object's  sake,  not  for  my  sake  and  mine  alone.         V  ^ 

Religious  or  romantic  love  is  distinguished  from  sensual!  ^ 
love  by  the  difference  of  the  object  indeed,  but  not  bv| 
the  dependence  of  the  relation  to  it.    In  the  latter  regard; 
both  are  possessedness ;  but  in  the  former  the  one  object  |^ 
is  profane,  the  other  sacred.    The  dominion  of  the  ob- 

II 


THE  OWNER 


309 


ject  over  me  is  the  same  in  both  cases,  only  that  it  is  one 
tniie  a  sensuous  one  the  other  time  a  spiritual  (ghostly) 
one.  My  love  is  my  own  only  when  it  consists  altogether 
in  a  selfish  and  egoistic  interest,  and  when  consequently 
the  object  of  my  love  is  really  my  object  or  my  prop- 
erty. I  owe  my  property  nothing,  and  have  no  duty  to 
it,  as  little  as  I  might  have  a  duty  to  my  eye ;  if  neverthe- 
less I  guard  it  with  the  greatest  care,  I  do  so  on  my 
account. 

Antiquity  lacked  love  as  little  as  do  Christian  times; 
the  god  of  love  is  older  than  the  God  of  Love.  But  the 
mystical  possessedness  belongs  to  the  modern. 

The  possessedness  of  love  lies  in  the  alienation  of  the 
object,  or  in  my  powerlessness  as  against  its  alienness  and 
superior  power.  To  the  egoist  nothing  is  high  enough  for 
him  to  humble  himself  before  it,  nothing  so  independent 
that  he  would  live  for  love  of  a  nothing  so  sacred  that 
he  would  sacrifice  himself  to  it.  The  egoist's  love  rises  in 
selfishness,  flows  in  the  need  of  selfishness,  and  empties 
into  selfishness  again. 

.  Whether  this  can  still  be  called  love?  If  you  know  an- 
other word  for  it,  go  ahead  and  choose  it ;  then  the  sweet 
word  love  may  wither  with  the  departed  world ;  for 
the  present  I  at  least  find  none  in  our  Christian  language, 
and  hence  stick  to  the  old  sound  and  ''love"  my  object, 
my — property. 

Only  as  one  of  my  feelings  do  I  harbor  love ;  but  as 
a  power  above  me,  as  a  divine  power  (Feuerbach),  as  a 
passion  that  I  am  not  to  cast  off,  as  a  religious  and  moral 
duty,  I — scorn  it.  As  my  feeling  it  is  mine ;  as  a  prin- 
ciple to  which  I  consecrate  and  "vow"  my  soul  it  is  a 
dominator  and  divine,  just  as  hatred  as  a  principle  is 
diabolical;  one  not  better  than  the  other.  In  short,  egois- 
tic love,  i.  e.,  my  love,  is  neither  holy  nor  unholy,  neither 
divine  nor  diabolical. 

''A  love  that  is  limited  by  faith  is  an  untrue  love.  The 
sole  limitation  that  does  not  contradict  the  essence  of 
love  is  the  self-limitation  of  love  by  reason,  intelligence. 
Love  that  scorns  the  rigor,  the  law,  of  intelligence,  is 


310 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


theoretically  a  false  love,  practically  a  minous  one."*  So 
love  is  in  its  essence  rational!  So  thinks  Feuerbach;  the 
believer,  on  the  contrary,  thinks,  Love  is  in  its  essence 
believing.  The  one  inveighs  against  irnational,  the  other 
against  unbelieving,  love.  To  both  it  can  at  most  rank  as 
a  splendidum  vitium.  Do  not  both  leave  love  standing, 
even  in  the  form  of  unreason  and  unbelief  ?  They  do  not 
dare  to  say,  irrational  or  unbelieving  love  is  nonsense,  is 
not  love ;  as  little  as  they  are  willing  to  say,  irrational  or 
unbelieving  tears  are  not  tears.  But,  if  even  irrational 
love,  etc.^  must  count  as  love,  and  if  they  are  nevertheless 
to  be  unworthy  of  man,  there  follows  simply  this :  love 
is  not  the  highest  thing,  but  reason  or  faith;  even  the 
unreasonable  and  the  unbelieving  can  love ;  but  love  has 
value  only  when  it  is  that  of  a  rational  or  believing  per- 
son. It  is  an  illusion  when  Feuerbach  calls  the  rationality 
of  love  its  "self-limitation" ;  the  believer  might  with  the 
same  right  call  belief  its  "self-limitation."  Irrational  love 
is  neither  "false"  nor  "ruinous";  it  does  its  service  as 
love. 

Toward  the  world,  especially  toward  men,  I  am  to 
assume  a  particular  feeling,  and  "meet  them  with  love," 
with  the  feeling  of  love,  from  the  beginning.  Certainly, 
in  this  there  is  revealed  far  more  free-will  and  self- 
determination  than  when  I  let  myself  be  stormed,  by  way 
of  the  world,  by  all  possible  feeling,  and  remain  exposed 
to  the  most  checkered,  most  accidental  impressions.  I 
go  to  the  world  rather  with  a  preconceived  feelinsr,  as  if 
it  were  a  prejudice  and  a  preconceived  opinion;  I  have 
prescribed  to  myself  in  advance  my  behavior  toward  it, 
and,  despite  all  its  temptations,  feel  and  think  about  it 
onlv  as  I  have  once  determined  to.  Against  the  dominion 
of  the  world  I  secure  mvself  by  the  principle  of  love ;  for 
whatever  mav  come,  I — love.  The  usflv — e.  g. — makes 
a  repulsive  impression  on  me ;  but,  determined  to  love  I 
master  this  impression  as  I  do  every  antipathy. 

But  the  feeling  to  which  I  have  determined  and — con- 

*  Feuerbach,  "Essence  of  Chr.,"  394. 


THE  OWNER 


311 


demned  myself  from  the  start  is  a  narrow  feeling,  be- 
cause it  is  a  predestined  one,  of  which  I  myself  am  not 
able  to  get  clear  or  to  declare  myself  clear.  Because 
preconceived,  it  is  a  prejudice,  I  no  longer  show  myself 
in  face  of  the  world,  but  my  love  shows  itself.  The 
world  indeed  does  not  rule  me,  but  so  much  the  more 
inevitably  does  the  spirit  of  love  rule  me.  I  have  over- 
come the  world  to  become  a  slave  of  this  spirit. 

If  I  first  said,  I  love  the  world,  I  now  add  likewise : 
I  do  not  love  it,  for  I  annihilate  it  as  I  annihilate  myself ; 
/  dissolve  it.  I  do  not  limit  myself  to  one  feeling  for  men, 
but  give  free  play  to  all  that  I  am  capable  of.  Why 
should  I  not  dare  speak  it  out  in  all  its  glaringness  ?  Yes, 
/  utilize  the  world  and  men!  With  this  I  can  keep  my- 
self open  to  every  impression  without  being  torn  away 
from  myself  by  one  of  them.  I  can  love,  love  with  a 
full  heart,  and  let  the  most  consuming  glow  of  passion 
burn  in  my  heart,  without  taking  the  beloved  one  for  any- 
thing else  than  the  nourishment  of  my  passion,  on  which 
it  ever  refreshes  itself  anew.  All  my  care  for  him  ap- 
plies only  to  the  object  of  my  love,  only  to  him  whom 
my  iQve  requires,  only  to  him,  the  ^'warmly  loved.''  How 
indifferent  would  he  be  to  me  without  this — my  love ! 
I  feed  only  my  love  with  him,  I  utilize  him  for  this  only : 
I  enjoy  him. 

Let  us  choose  another  convenient  example.  I  see  how 
men  are  fretted  in  dark  superstition  by  a  swarm  of  ghosts. 
If  to  the  extent  of  my  powers  I  let  a  bit  of  daylight  fall 
in  on  the  nocturnal  spookery^  is  it  perchance  because  love 
to  you  inspires  this  in  me  ?  Do  I  write  out  of  love  to  men  ? 
No,  I  write  because  I  was  to  procure  for  my  thoughts  an 
existence  in  the  world ;  and,  even  if  I  foresaw  that  these 
thoughts  would  deprive  you  of  your  rest  and  your  peace, 
even  if  I  saw  the  bloodiest  wars  and  the  fall  of  many 
generations  springing  up  from  this  seed  of  thought — I 
would  nevertheless  scatter  it.  Do  with  it  what  you  will 
and  can,  that  is  your  affair  and  does  not  trouble  me.  You 
will  perhaps  have  only  trouble,  combat,  and  death  from 
it,  very  few  will  draw  joy  from  it    If  your  weal  lay  at 


312 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


my  heart,  I  should  act  as  the  church  did  in  withholding 
the  Bible  from  the  laity,  or  Christian  governments,  which 
make  it  a  sacred  duty  for  themselves  to  ''protect  the  com- 
mon people  from  bad  books/' 

But  not  only  not  for  your  sake,  not  even  for  truth's 
sake  either  do  I  speak  out  what  I  think.  No — 

I  sing  as  the  bird  sings 

That  on  the  bough  alights ; 
The  song  that  from  me  springs 

Is  pay  that  well  requites. 

I  sing  because — I  am  a  singer.  But  I  use^  you  for  it 
because  I — needf  ears. 

Where  the  world  comes  in  my  way— and  it  comes  in  my 
way  everywhere — I  consume  it  to  quiet  the  hunger  of 
my  egoism.  For  me  you  are  nothing  but — my  food,  even 
as  I  too  am  fed  upon  and  turned  to  uses  by  you.  We 
have  only  one  relation  to  each  other  that  of  usahleness, 
of  utility,  of  use.  We  owe  each  other  nothing,  for  what 
I  seem  to  owe  you  I  owe  at  most  to  myself.  If  I  show 
you  a  cheery  air  in  order  to  cheer  you  likewise,  then  your 
cheeriness  is  of  consequence  to  me^  and  my  air  serves 
my  wish!  to  a  thousand  others,  whom  I  do  not  aim  to 
cheer,  I  do  not  show  it. 

One  has  to  be  educated  up  to  that  love  which  founds 
itself  on  the  "essence  of  man"  or,  in  the  ecclesiastical 
and  moral  period,  lies  upon  us  as  a  "commandment."  In 
what  fashion  moral  influence,  the  chief  ingredient  of 
our  education,  seeks  to  regulate  the  intercourse  of  men 
shall  here  be  looked  at  with  egoistic  eyes  in  one  example 
at  least. 

Those  who  educate  us  make  it  their  concern  early  to 
break  us  of  lying  and  to  inculcate  the  principle  that  one 
must  always  tell  the  truth.  If  selfishness  were  made  the 
basis  for  this  very  rule,  every  one  would  easily  under- 
stand how  by  lying  he  fools  away  that  confidence  in  him 


*  [gebrauche] 


t  [brauche] 


THE  OWNER 


313 


which  he  hopes  to  awaken  in  others,  and  how  correct  the 
maxim  proves,  Nobody  believes  a  liar  even  when  he  tells 
the  truth.  Yet,  at  the  same  time,  he  would  also  feel  that 
he  had  to  meet  with,  truth  only  him  whom  he  authorized 
to  hear  the  truth.  If  a  spy  walks  in  disguise  through 
the  hostile  camp,  and  is  asked  who  he  is,  the  askers  are 
assuredly  entitled  to  inquire  after  his  name,  but  the  dis- 
guised man  does  not  give  him  the  right  to  learn  the 
truth  from  him;  he  tells  them  what  he  likes,  only  not 
the  fact.  And  yet  morality  demands,  ''Thou  shalt  not 
lie By  morality  those  persons  are  vested  with  the 
right  to  expect  the  truth ;  but  by  me  they  are  not  vested 
with  that  right,  and  I  recognize  only  the  right  that  / 
impart.  In  a  gathering  of  revolutionists  the  police  force 
their  way  in  and  ask  the  orator  for  his  name ;  everybody 
knows  that  the  police  have  the  right  to  do  so,  but  they 
do  not  have  it  from  the  revolutionist,  since  he  is  their 
enemy;  he  tells  them  a  false  name  and — cheats  them 
with  a  lie.  The  police  do  not  act  so  foolishly  either  as 
to  count  on  the  enemies'  love  of  truth ;  on  the  contrary, 
they  do  not  believe  without  further  ceremony,  but  have 
the  questioned  individual  ''identified"  if  they  can.  Nay, 
the  State  everywhere  proceeds  incredulously  with  indi- 
viduals, because  in  their  egoism  it  recognizes  its  natural 
enemy;  it  invariably  demands  a  "voucher,''  and  he  who 
cannot  show  vouchers  falls  a  prey  to  its  investigating 
inquisition.  The  State  does  not  believe  nor  trust  the 
individual,  and  so  of  itself  places  itself  with  him  in  the 
convention  of  lying;  it  trusts  me  only  when  it  has  con- 
vinced itself  of  the  truth  of  my  statement,  for  which 
there  often  remains  to  it  no  other  means  than  the  oath. 
How  clearly,  too,  this  (the  oath)  proves  that  the  State 
does  not  count  on  our  credibility  and  love  of  truth,  but 
on  onr  interest,  our  selfishness :  it  relies  on  our  not  want- 
ing to  fall  foul  of  God  by  a  perjury. 

Now,  let  one  imagine  a  French  revolutionist  in  the 
year  1788,  who  among  friends  let  fall  the  now  well- 
known  phrase,  "the  world  will  have  no  rest  till  the  last 
king  is  hanged  v/ith  the  guts  of  the  last  priest."  The 


314 


THE  EGO  AND^  HIS  OWN 


king  then  still  had  all  power,  and,  when  the  utterance 
is  betrayed  by  an  accident,  yet  without  its  being  possible 
to  produce  witnesses,  confession  is  demanded  from  the 
accused.  Is  he  to  confess  or  not?  If  <he  denies,  he  lies 
and — remains  unpunished  ;  if  he  confesses,  he  is  candid 
and — is  beheaded.  If  truth  is  more  than  everything  else 
to  him,  all  right,  let  him  die.  Only  a  paltry  poet  could 
try  to  make  a  tragedy  out  of  the  end  of  his  life;  for 
what  interest  is  there  in  seeing  how  a  man  succumbs 
from  cowardice?  But,  if  he  had  the  courage  not  to  be 
a  slave  of  truth  and  sincerity,  he  would  ask  somewhat 
thus:  Why  need  the  judges  know  what  I  have  spoken 
among  friends?  If  I  had  wished  them  to  know,  I  should 
have  said  it  to  them  as  I  said  it  to  my  friends.  I  will 
not  have  them  know  it.  They  force  themselves  into  my 
confidence  without  my  having  called  them  to  it  and  made 
them  my  confidants ;  they  will  learn  what  I  will  keep 
secret.  Come  on  then,  you  who  wish  to  break  my  will  by 
your  will,  and  try  your  arts.  You  can  torture  me  by  the 
rack,  you  can  threaten  me  with  hell  and  eternal  damna- 
tion, you  can  make  me  so  nerveless  that  I  Gwear  a  false 
oath,  but  the  truth  you  shall  not  press  out  of  me,  for  I 
will  lie  to  you  because  I  have  given  you  no  claim  and 
no  right  to  my  sincerity.  Let  God,  ''who  is  truth,"  look 
down  ever  so  threateningly  on  me,  let  lying  come  ever 
so  hard  to  me,  I  have  nevertheless  the  courage  of  a  lie ; 
and,  even  if  I  were  weary  of  my  life,  even  if  nothing 
appeared  to  me  more  welcome  than  your  executioner's 
sword,  you  nevertheless  should  not  have  the  joy  of  find- 
ing in  me  a  slave  of  truth,  whom  by  your  priestly  arts 
you  make  a  traitor  to  his  will.  When  I  spoke  treason- 
able words,  I  would  not  have  had  you  know  anything 
of  them ;  I  now  retain  the  same  will,  and  do  not  let  my- 
self be  frightened  by  the  curse  of  the  lie. 

Sigismund  is  not  a  miserable  caitiff  because  he  broke 
his  princely  word,  but  he  broke  the  word  because  he  was 
a  caitiff ;  he  might  have  kept  his  word  and  would  still 
have  been  a  caitiff,  a  priest-ridden  man.  Luther,  driven 
by  a  higher  power,  became  unfaithful  to  his  monastic 


THE  OWNER 


315 


vow:  he  became  so  for  God's  sake.  Both  broke  their 
oath  as  possessed  persons :  Sigismund,  because  he  wanted 
to  appear  as  a  sincere  professor  of  the  divine  truth,  i.  e. 
of  the  true,  genui^iely  Catholic  faith ;  Luther,  in  order 
to  give  testimony  for  the  gospel  sincerely  and  with  entire 
truth,  with  body  and  soul;  both  became  perjured  in  order 
to  be  sincere  toward  the  ''higher  truth."  Only,  the  priests 
absolved  the  one,  the  other  absolved  himself.  What  else 
did  both  observe  than  what  is  contained  in  those  apos- 
tolic words,  'Thou  hast*  not  lied  to  me,  but  to  God"? 
They  lied  to  men,  broke  their  oath  before  the  world's 
eyes,  in  order  not  to  lie  to  God,  but  to  serve  him.  Thus 
they  show  us  a  way  to  deal  with  truth  before  men.  For 
God's  glory,  and  for  God's  sake,  a — breach  of  oath,  a 
lie,  a  prince's  word  broken ! 

How  would  it  be,  now,  if  we  changed  the  thing  a 
little  and  wrote,  A  perjury  and  lie  for — my  sake?  Would 
not  that  be  pleading  for  every  baseness?  It  seems  so 
assuredly,  only  in  this  it  is  altogether  like  the  "for  God's 
sake."-  For  was  not  every  baseness  committed  for  God's 
sake,  were  not  all  the  scaffolds  filled  for  his  sake  and  all 
the  auto-da-fes  held  for  his  sake,  was  not  all  stupefac- 
tion introduced  for  his  sake?  and  do  they  not  to-day 
still  for  God's  sake  fetter  the  mind  in  tender  children 
by  religious  education?  Were  not  sacred  vows  broken 
for  his  sake,  and  do  not  missionaries  and  priests  still  go 
arotmd  every  day  to  bring  Jews,  heathen,  Protestants 
or  Catholics,  etc.,  to  treason  against  the  faith  of  their 
fathers — for  his  sake?  And  that  should  be  worse  with 
the  for  my  sake?  What  then  does  on  my  account  mean? 
There  people  immediately  think  of  "filthy  lucre."  But 
he  who  acts  from  love  of  filthy  lucre  does  it  on  his  own 
account  indeed,  as  there  is  nothing  anyhow  that  one  does 
not  do  for  his  own  sake- — among  other  things,  everything 
that  is  done  for  God's  glory :  yet  he,  for  whom  he  seeks 
the  lucre,  is  a  slave  of  lucre,  not  raised  above  lucre ;  he 
is  one  who  belongs  to  lucre,  the  money-bag,  not  to  him- 
self; he  is  not  his  own.  Must  not  a  man  whom  the 
passion  of  avarice  rules  follow  the  commands  of  this 


316 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


master?  and,  if  a  weak  good-naturedness  once  beguiles 
him,  does  this  not  appear  as  simply  an  exceptional  case 
of  precisely  the  same  sort  as  when  pious  believers  are 
sometimes  forsaken  by  their  Lord's  guidance  and  en- 
snared by  the  arts  of  the  ''devil"  ?  So  an  avaricious  man 
is  not  a  self-owned  man,  but  a  servant;  and  he  can  do 
nothing  for  his  own  sake  without  at  the  same  time  doing 
it  for  his  lord's  sake — -precisely  like  the  godly  man. 

Famous  is  the  breach  of  oath  which  Francis  H  com- 
mitted against  Emperor  Charles  V.  Not  later,  when  he 
ripely  weighed  his  promise,  but  at  once,  when  he  swore 
the  oath,  King  Francis  took  it  back  in  thought  as  well 
as  by  a  secret  protestation  documentarily  subscribed  be- 
fore his  councillors;  he  uttered  a  perjury  aforethought. 
Francis  did  not  show  himself  disinclined  to  buy  his  re- 
lease, but  the  price  that  Charles  put  on  it  seemed  to  him 
too  high  and  unreasonable.  Even  though  Charles  be- 
haved himself  in  a  sordid  fashion  when  he  sought  to 
extort  as  much  as  possible,  it  was  yet  shabby  of  Francis 
to  want  him  to  purchase  his  freedom  for  a  lower  ran- 
som; and  his  later  dealings,  among  which  there  occurs 
yet  a  second  breach  of  his  word,  prove  sufficiently  how 
the  huckster  spirit  held  him  enthralled  and  made  him 
a  shabby  swindler.  However,  what  shall  we  say  to  the 
reproach  of  perjury  against  him?  In  the  first  place, 
surely,  this  again:  that  not  the  perjury,  but  his  sordid- 
ness,  shamed  him ;  that  he  did  not  deserve  contempt  for 
his  perjury,  but  made  himself  guilty  of  perjury  because 
he  was  a  contemptible  man.  But  Francis's  perjury,  re- 
garded in  itself,  demands  another  judgment.  One  might 
say  Francis  did  not  respond  to  the  confidence  that  Charles 
put  in  him  in  setting  him  free.  But,  if  Charles  had  really 
favored  him  with  confidence,  he  would  have  named  to 
him  the  price  that  he  considered  the  release  worth,  and 
would  then  have  set  him  at  liberty  and  expected  Francis  ' 
to  pay  the  redemption-sum.  Charles  harbored  no  such  | 
trust,  hut  only  believed  in  Francis's  impotence  and  ere-  j 
dulity,  which  would  not  allow  him  to  act  against  his  " 
oath ;  but  Francis  deceived  only  this — credulous  calcula- 


THE  OWNER 


317 


tion.  When  Charles  believed  he  was  assuring  himself 
of  his  enemy  by  an  oath,  right  there  he  was  freeing  him 
from  every  obligation.  Charles  had  given  the  king  credit 
for  a  piece  of  stupidity,  a  narrow  conscience,  and,  with- 
out confidence  in  Francis,  counted  only  on  Francis's  stu- 
pidity^  i.  e,  conscientiousness :  he  let  him  go  from  the 
Madrid  prison  only  to  hold  him  the  more  securely  in  the 
prison  of  conscientiousness,  the  great  jail  built  about 
the  mind  of  man  by  religion :  he  sent  him  back  to  France 
locked  fast  in  invisible  chains,  what  wonder  if  Francis 
sought  to  escape  and  sawed  the  chains  apart?  No  man 
would  have  taken  it  amiss  of  him  if  he  had  secretly  fled 
from  Madrid,  for  he  was  in  an  enemy's  power ;  but  every 
good  Christian  cries  out  upon  him,  that  he  wanted  to- 
loose  himself  from  God's  bonds  too.  (It  was  only  later 
that  the  pope  absolved  him  from  his  oath.) 

It  is  despicable  to  deceive  a  confidence  that  we  volun- 
tarily call  forth ;  but  it  is  no  shame  to  egoism  to  let  every 
one  who  wants  to  get  us  into  his  power  by  an  oath  bleed 
to  death  by  the  unsuccessfulness  of  his  untrustful  craft.- 
If  you  have  wanted  to  bind  me,  then  learn  that  I  know 
how  to  burst  your  bonds. 

The  point  is  whether  /  give  the  confider  the  right  to 
confidence.  If  the  pursuer  of  my  friend  asks  me  where 
he  has  fled  to,  I  shall  surely  put  him  on  a  false  trail- 
Why  does  he  ask  precisely  me,  the  pursued  man's  friend  ? 
In  order  not  to  be  a  false,  traitorous  friend,  I  prefer  to 
be  false  to  the  enemy.  I  might  certainly,  in  courageous 
conscientiousness,  answer  'T  will  not  tell"  (so  Fichte 
decides  the  case)  ;  by  that  I  should  salve  my  love  of 
truth  and  do  for  my  friend  as  much  as — nothing,  for,  if 
I  do  not  mislead  the  enemy,  he  may  accidentally  take  the 
right  street,  and  my  love  of  truth  would  have  given  up 
my  friend  as  a  prey,  because  it  hindered  me  from  the — 
courage  for  a  lie.  He  who  has  in  the  truth  an  idol,  a 
sacred  thing,  must  humble  himself  before  it,  must  not  defy 
its  demands,  not  resist  courageously ;  in  short,  he  must 
renounce  the  heroism  of  the  lie.  For  to  the  lie  belongs 
not  less  courage  than  to  the  trutli :  a  courage  that  young 


318 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


men  are  most  apt  to  be  defective  in,  who  would  rather 
confess  the  truth  and  mount  the  scaffold  for  it  than  con- 
found the  enemy's  power  by  the  impudence  of  a  lie.  To 
them  the  truth  is  ''sacred/'  and  the  sacred  at  all  times 
demands  blind  reverence,  submission,  and  self-sacrifice. 
If  you  are  not  impudent,  not  mockers  of  the  sacred,  you 
are  tame  and  its  servants.  Let  one  but  lay  a  grain  of 
truth  in  the  trap  for  you,  you  peck  at  it  to  a  certainty, 
and  the  fool  is  caught.  You  will  not  lie?  Well,  then, 
fall  as  sacrifices  to  the  truth  and  become — martyrs ! 
Martyrs! — for  what?  For  yourselves,  for  self -owner- 
ship? No,  for  your  goddess — the  truth.  You  know 
only  two  services,  only  two  kinds  of  servants :  servants 
of  the  truth  and  servants  of  the  lie.  Then  in  God's 
name  serve  the  truth ! 

Others,  again,  serve  the  truth  also ;  but  they  serve  it 
''in  moderation,"  and  make,  e,  g.,  a  great  distinction  be- 
tween a  simple  lie  and  a  lie  sworn  to.  And  yet  the  whole 
chapter  of  the  oath  coincides  with  that  of  the  lie,  since 
an  oath,  everybody  knows,  is  only  a  strongly  assured 
statement.  You  consider  yourselves  entitled  to  lie,  if 
only  you  do  not  swear  to  it  besides?  One  who  is  par- 
ticular about  it  m.ust  judge  and  condemn  a  lie  as  sharply 
as  a  false  oath.  But  now  there  has  been  kept  up  in 
morality  an  ancient  point  of  controversy,  which  is  cus- 
tomarily treated  of  under  the  name  of  the  "lie  of  neces- 
sity." No  one  who  dares  plead  for  this  can  consistently 
put  from  him  an  "oath  of  necessity."  If  I  justify  my 
lie  as  a  lie  of  necessity,  I  should  not  be  so  pusillanimous 
as  to  rob  the  justified  lie  of  the  strongest  corroboration. 
Whatever  I  do,  why  should  I  not  do  it  entirely  and  with- 
out reservation  (reservatio  mentalis)  ?  If  I  once  lie,  why 
then  not  lie  completely,  with  entire  consciousness  and  all 
my  might?  As  a  spy  I  should  have  to  swear  to  each  of 
my  false  statements  at  the  enemy's  demand;  determined 
to  lie  to  him,  should  I  suddenly  become  cowardly  and 
undecided  in  the  face  of  an  oath?  Then  I  should  have 
been  ruined  in  advance  for  a  liar  and  spy;  for,  you 
see,  I  should  be  voluntarily  putting  into  the  enemy's 


THE  OWNER 


319 


hands  a  means  to  catch  me. — The  State  too  fears 
the  oath  of  necessity,  and  for  this  reason  does  not  give 
the  accused  a  chance  to  swear.  But  you  do  not  justify 
^'he  State's  fear;  you  He,  but  do  not  swear  falsely.  If, 
e.  g.,  you  show  some  one  a  kindness,  and  he  is  not  to 
know  it,  but  he  guesses  it  and  tells  you  so  to  your  face, 
you  deny;  if  he  insists,  you  say  ''honestly,  no!"  If  it 
came  to  swearing,  then  you  would  refuse;  for,  from 
fear  of  the  sacred,  you  always  stop  half  way.  Against 
the  sacred  you  have  no  will  of  your  own.  You  lie  in 
— ^^moderation,  as  you  are  free  ''in  moderation,"  religious 
"in  moderation"  (the  clergy  are  not  to  "encroach";  over 
this  point  the  most  vapid  of  controversies  is  now  being 
carried  on,  on  the  part  of  the  university  agamst  the 
church),  monarchically  disposed  "in  moderation"  (you 
want  a  monarch  limited  by  the  constitution,  by  a  funda- 
mental law  of  the  State),  everything  nicely  tempered, 
lukewarm,  half  God's,  half  the  devil's. 

There  was  a  university  where  the  usage  was  that  every 
word  of  honor  that  must  be  given  to  the  university  judge 
was  looked  upon  by  the  students  as  null  and  void.  For 
the  students  saw  in  the  demanding  of  it  nothing  but  a 
snare,  which  they  could  not  escape  otherwise  than  by 
taking  away  all  its  significance.  He  who  at  that  same 
university  broke  his  word  of  honor  to  one  of  the  fellows 
was  infamous ;  he  who  gave  it  to  the  university  judge 
.derided,  in  union  with  these  very  fellows,  the  dupe  who 
fancied  that  a  word  had  the  same  value  among  friends 
and  among  foes.  It  was  less  a  correct  theory  than  the 
constraint  of  practice  that  had  there  taught  the  students 
to  act  so,  as,  without  the  means  of  getting  out,  they  would 
have  been  pitilessly  driven  to  treachery  against  their 
comrades.  But,  as  the  means  approved  itself  in  practice, 
so  it  has  its  theoretical  probation  too.  A  word  of  honor, 
an  oath,  is  one  only  for  him  whom  /  entitle  to  receive 
it;  he  who  forces  me  to  it  obtains  only  a  forced,  i.  e.  a 
hostile  word,  the  word  of  a  foe,  whom  one  has  no  right 
to  trust ;  for  the  foe  does  not  give  us  the  right. 

Aside  from  this,  the  courts  of  the  State  do  not  even 


320  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


recognize  the  inviolability  of  an  oath.  For,  if  I  had 
sworn  to  one  who  comes  under  examination  that  I  would 
not  declare  anything  against  him,  the  court  would  de- 
mand my  declaration  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  an  oath 
binds  me,  and,  in  case  of  refusal,  would  lock  me  up  till 
I  decided  to  become — an  oath-breaker.  The  court  ''ab- 
solves me  from  my  oath"  ; — how  magnanimous  !  If  any 
power  can  absolve  me  from  the  oath,  I  myself  am  surely 
the  very  first  power  that  has  a  claim  to. 

As  a  curiosity,  and  to  remind  us  of  customary  oaths 
of  all  sorts,  let  place  be  given  here  to  that  which  Em- 
peror Paul  commanded  the  captured  Poles  (Kosciusko, 
Potocki,  Niemcewicz,  etc.)  to  take  when  he  released  them : 
^'We  not  merely  swear  fidelity  and  obedience  to  the  em- 
peror, but  also  further  promise  to  pour  out  our  blood 
for  his  glory ;  we  obligate  ourselves  to  discover  every- 
thing threatening  to  his  person  or  his  empire  that  we 
ever  learn ;  we  declare  finally  that,  in  whatever  part  of 
the  earth  we  may  be,  a  single  word  of  the  emperor  shall 
suffice  to  make  us  leave  everything  and  repair  to  him  at 
once." 

In  one  domain  the  principle  of  love  seems  to  have  been 
long  outsoared  by  egoism,  and  to  be  still  in  need  only  of 
sure  consciousness,  as  it  were  of  victory  with  a  good 
conscience.  This  domain  is  speculation,  in  its  double 
manifestation  as  thinking  and  as  trade.  One  thinks  with 
a  will,  whatever  may  come  of  it;  one  speculates,  how- 
ever many  may  suflfer  under  our  speculative  undertakings. 
But,  when  it  finally  becomes  serious,  when  even  the  last 
remnant  of  religiousness,  romance,  or  "humanity''  is 
to  be  done  away,  then  the  pulse  of  religious  conscience 
bets,  and  one  at  least  professes  humanity.  The  avaricious 
speculator  throws  some  coppers  into  the  poor-box  and 
*'does  good,"  the  bold  thinker  consoles  himself  with  the 
fact  that  he  is  working  for  the  advancement  of  the 
human  race  and  that  his  devastation  "turns  to  the 
good'"  of  mankind,  or,  in  another  case,  that  he  is  serv- 
ing the  idea":  mankind,  the  idea,  is  to  him  that  some- 


THE  OWNER 


321 


thing  of  which  he  must  say,  It  is  more  to  me  than 
myself. 

I  To  this  day  thinking  and  trading  have  been  done  for 
j  —God's  sake.  Those  who  for  six  days  were  trampHng 
'■'  down  everything  by  their  selfish  aims  sacrificed  on  the 
seventh  to  the  Lord ;  and  those  who  destroyed  a  hundred 
"'good  causes"  by  their  reckless  thinking  still  did  this  in 
the  service  of  another  ''good  cause,"  and  had  yet  to  think 
of  another — besides  themselves — to  whose  good  their  self- 
indulgence  should  turn;  of  the  people,  mankind,  and  the 
like.  But  this  other  thing  is  a  being  above  them,  a  higher 
or  supreme  being;  and  therefore  I  say,  they  are  toiling 
for  God's  sake. 

Hence  I  can  also  say  that  the  ultimate  basis  of  their 
actions  is — love.  Not  a  voluntary  love  however,  not  their 
own,  but  a  tributary  love,  or  the  higher  being's  own  (i,  e. 
God's,  who  himself  is  love)  ;  in  short,  not  the  egoistic, 
•but  t-he  religious ;  a  love  that  springs  from  their  fancy 
that  they  must  discharge  a  tribute  of  love,  i.  e.  that  they 
must  not  be  '^egoists." 

If  we  want  to  deliver  the  world  from  many  kinds  of 
unf  reedom,  we  want  this  not  on  its  account  but  on  ours ; 
for,  as  we  are  not  world-liberators  by  profession  and 
out  of  ''love,"  we  only  want  to  win  it  away  from  others. 
We  want  to  make  it  our  own ;  it  is  not  to  be  any  longer 
owned  as  serf  by  God  (the  church)  nor  by  the  law 
(State),  but  to  be  our  own;  therefore  we  seek  to  "win'' 
it,  to  ''captivate"  it,  and,  by  meeting  it  half-way  and 
"devoting"  ourselves  to  it  as  to  ourselves  as  soon  as 
it  belongs  to  us,  to  complete  and  make  superfluous  the 
force  that  it  turns  against  us.  If  the  world  is  ours,  it 
no  longer  attempts  any  force  against  us,  but  only  with 
•us.  My  selfishness  has  an  interest  in  the  liberation  of  the 
world,  that  it  may  become — my  property. 

Not  insolation  or  being  alone,  but  society,  is  man's 
original  state.  Our  existence  begins  with  the  most  in- 
timate conjunction,  as  we  are  already  living  with  our 
mother  before  we  breathe ;  when  we  see  the  light  of  the 
world,  we  at  once  lie  on  a  human  being's  breast  again, 


322  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


her  love  cradles  us  in  the  lap,  leads  us  in  the  go-cart,  and 
chains  us  to  her  person  with  a  thousand  ties.  Society  is 
our  state  of  nature.  And  this  is  why,  the  more  we  learn 
to  feel  ourselves^  the  connection  that  was  formerly  most 
intimate  becomes  ever  looser  and  the  dissolution  of  the 
original  society  more  unmistakable*  To  have  once  again 
for  herself  the  child  that  once  lay  under  her  heart,  the 
mother  must  fetch  it  from  the  street  and  from  the  midst 
of  its  playmates.  The  child  prefers  the  intercourse  that 
it  enters  into  with  its  fellows  to  the  society  that  it  has  not 
entered  into,  but  only  been  born  in. 

But  the  dissolution  of  society  is  intercourse  or  union. 
'A  society  does  assuredly  arise  by  union  too,  but  only  as  a 
fixed  idea  arises  by  a  thought — to  wit,  by  the  vanishing 
of  the  energy  of  the  thoughts  (the  thinking  itself,  this 
restless  taking  back  all  thoughts  that  make  themselves 
fast)  from  the  thought.  If  a  union'''  has  crystallized  into 
a  society,  it  has  ceased  to  be  a  coalition  ;t  for  coalition  is 
an  incessant  self-uniting ;  it  has  become  a  unitedness,  come 
to  a  standstill,  degenerated  into  a  fixity;  it  is — dead  as 
a  union,  it  is  the  corpse  of  the  union  or  the  coalition, 
i.  e.  it  is — society,  community.  A  striking  example  of 
this  kind  is  furnished  by  the  party. 

That  a  society  (e,  g.  the  society  of  the  State)  diminishes 
my  liberty  offends  me  little.  Why,  I  have  to  let  my  lib- 
erty be  limited  by  all  sorts  of  powers  and  by  every  one 
who  is  stronger ;  nay,  by  every  fellow-man ;  and,  were  I 
the  autocrat  of  all  the  R  .  .  .  .,  I  yet  should  not  en- 
joy absolute  liberty.  But  ownness  I  will  not  have  taken 
from  me.  And  ownness  is  precisely  what  every  society 
has  designs  on,  precisely  what  is  to  succumb  to  its  power. 

A  society  which  I  join  does  indeed  take  from  me  many 
liberties,  but  in  return  it  affords  me  other  liberties ;  neither 
does  it  matter  if  I  myself  deprive  myself  of  this  and  that 
liberty  (e.  q.  by  any  contract).  On  the  other  hand,  I 
want  to  hold  jealously  to  my  ownness.  Every  commun- 
ity has  the  propensity,  stronger  or  weaker  according  to  the 


*  [Verein] 


t  [Vereinigung] 


THE  OWNER 


323 


fulness  of  its  power,  to  become  an  authority  to  its  mem- 
bers and  to  set  limits  for  them :  it  asks,  and  must  ask,  for 
a  ''subject's  limited  understanding"  ;  it  asks  that  those  who 
belong  to  it  be  subject  to  it,  be  its  "subjects";  it  exists 
only  by  subjection.  In  this  a  certain  tolerance  need  by 
no  means  be  excluded;  on  the  contrary,  the  society  will 
welcome  improvements,  corrections,  and  blame,  so  far 
as  such  are  calculated  for  its  gain :  but  the  blame  must  be 
''well-meaning,"  it  may  not  be  "insolent  and  disrespectful" 
— in  other  words,  one  must  leave  uninjured,  and  hold 
sacred,  the  substance  of  the  society.  The  society  de- 
mands that  those  who  belong  to  it  shall  not  go  beyond  it 
and  exalt  themselves,  but  remain  "within  the  bounds  of 
legality,"  i.  e.  allow  themselves  only  so  much  as  the 
society  and  its  law  allow  them. 

There  is  a  difference  whether  my  liberty  or  my  own- 
ness  is  limited  by  a  society.  If  the  former  only  is  the 
case,  it  is  a  coalition,  an  agreement,  a  union ;  but,  if  ruin 
is  threatened  to  ownness,  it  is  a  power  of  itself  ,  a  power 
above  me,  a  thing  unattainable  by  me,  which  I  can  in- 
deed admire,  adore,  reverence,  respect,  but  cannot  sub- 
due and  consume,  and  that  for  the  reason  that  I  am 
resigned.  It  exists  by  my  resignation,  my  self -renuncia- 
tion, my  spiritlessness,*  called — HUMiLTY.f  My  humil- 
ity makes  its  courage,^  my  submissiveness  gives  it  its 
dominion. 

But  in  reference  to  liberty  State  and  union  are  subject 
to  no  essential  difference.  The  latter  can  just  as  little 
come  into  existence,  or  continue  in  existence,  without 
liberty's  being  limited  in  all  sorts  of  ways,  as  the  State 
is  compatible  with  unmeasured  liberty.  Limitation  of 
liberty  is  inevitable  everywhere,  for  one  cannot  get  rid 
of  everything;  one  cannot  fly  like  a  bird  merely  because 
one  would  like  to  fly  so,  for  one  does  not  get  free  from 
his  own  weight ;  one  cannot  live  under  water  as  long  as 
he  likes,  like  a  fish,  because  one  cannot  do  without  air 
and  cannot  get  free  from  this  indispensable  necessity ;  and 


*  [Muthlosigkeit]  f  [Demuth]  t  [Muth] 


324 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


the  like.  As  religion^  and  most  decidedly  Christianity, 
tormented  man  with  the  demand  to  realize  the  unnatural 
and  self-contradictory,  so  it  is  to  be  looked  upon  only 
as  the  true  logical  outcome  of  that  religious  overstraining 
and  overwroughtness  that  finally  liberty  itself,  absolute 
liberty,  was  exalted  into  an  ideal,  and  thus  the  nonsense 
of  the  impossible  had  to  come  glaringly  to  the  light. — 
The  union  will  assuredly  offer  a  greater  measure  of  lib- 
erty, as  well  as  (and  especially  because  by  it  one  escapes 
all  the  coercion  peculiar  to  State  and  society  life)  admit 
of  being  considered  as  "  a  new  liberty" ;  but  nevertheless 
it  will  still  contain  enough  of  unfreedom  and  involuntari- 
ness.  For  its  object  is  not  this — liberty  (which  on  the 
contrary  it  sacrifices  to  ownness),  but  only  ownness.  Re- 
ferred to  this,  the  difference  between  State  and  union  is 
great  enough.  The  former  is  an  enemy  and  murderer 
of  ownness,  the  latter  a  son  and  co-worker  of  it ;  the  for- 
mer a  spirit  that  would  be  adored  in  spirit  and  in  truth, 
the  latter  my  work,  my  product;  the  State  is  the  lord  of 
my  spirit,  who  demands  faith  and  prescribes  to  me  articles 
of  faith,  the  creed  of  legality;  it  exerts  moral  influence, 
dominates  my  spirit,  drives  away  my  ego  to  put  itself 
in  its  place  as  "my  true  ego" — in  short,  the  State  is  sacred, 
and  as  against  me,  the  individual  man,  it  is  the  true  man, 
the  spirit,  the  ghost;  but  the  union  is  my  own  creation, 
my  x:reature,  not  sacred,  not  a  spiritual  power  above  my 
spirit,  as  little  as  any  association  of  whatever  sort.  As 
I  am  not  willing  to  be  a  slave  of  my  maxims,  but  lay 
them  bare  to  my  continual  criticism  without  any  warrant, 
and  admit  no  bail  at  all  for  their  persistence,  so  still  less 
do  I  obligate  myself  to  the  union  for  my  future  and 
pledge  my  soul  to  it,  as  is  said  to  be  done  with  the  devil 
and  is  really  the  case  with  the  State  and  all  spiritual 
authority;  but  I  am  and  remain  more  to  myself  than 
State,  Church,  God,  and  the  like;  consequently  infinitely 
more  than  the  union  too. 

That  society  which  Communism  wants  to  found  seems 
to  stand  nearest  to  coalition.  For  it  is  to  aim  at  the  "wel- 
fare of  all,"  oh,  yes,  of  all,  cries  Weitling  innumer- 


THE  OWNER 


325 


able  times,  of  all!    That  does  really  look  as  if  in  it 
no  one  needed  to  take  a  back  seat.    But  what  then  will 
this  welfare  be?    Have  all  one  and  the  same  welfare, 
are  all  equally  well  off  with  one  and  the  same  thing? 
If  that  be  so,  the  question  is  of  the  ''true  welfare.''  Do 
we  not  with  this  come  right  to  the  point  where  religion 
begins  its  dominion  of  violence?   Christianity  says,  Look 
not  on  earthly  toys,  but  seek  your  true  welfare,  become 
— pious  Christians ;  being  Christians  is  the  true  welfare. 
It  is  the  true  welfare  of  ''all,''  because  it  is  the  welfare 
of  Man  as  such  (this  spook).    Now,  the  welfare  of  all 
is  surely  to  be  your  and  my  welfare  too?    But,  if  you 
and  I  do  not  look  upon  that  welfare  as  our  welfare,  will 
care  then  be  taken  for  that  in  which  we  feel  well?  On 
the  contrary,  society  has  decreed  a  welfare  as  the  ''true 
welfare";  and,  if  this  welfare  were  called  e.  g.  "enjoy- 
ment honestly  worked  for,"  but  you  preferred  enjoyable 
laziness,  enjoyment  without  work,  then  society,  which 
cares  for  the  "welfare  of  all,"  would  wisely  avoid  caring 
for  that  in  which  you  are  well  off.    Communism,  in  pro- 
claiming the  welfare  of  all,  annuls  outright  the  well- 
being  of  those  who  hitherto  lived  on  their  income  from 
investments  and  apparently  felt  better  in  that  than  in  the 
prospect  of  Weitling's  strict  hours  of  labor.    Hence  the 
latter  asserts  that  with  the  welfare  of  thousands  the 
welfare  of  millions  cannot  exist,  and  the  former  must 
give  up  their  special  welfare  "for  the  sake  of  the  general 
welfare."    No,  let  people  not  be  summoned  to  sacrifice 
their  special  welfare  for  the  general,  for  this  Christian 
admonition  will  not  carry  you  through ;  they  will  better 
understand  the  opposite  admonition,  not  to  let  their  own 
welfare  be  snatched  from  them  by  anybody,  but  to  put 
it  on  a  permanent  foundation.    Then  they  are  of  them- 
selves led  to  the  point  that  they  care  best  for  their  wel- 
fare if  they  unite  with  others  for  this  purpose,  i.  e.  "sac- 
rifice a  part  of  their  liberty,"  yet  not  to  the  welfare  of 
others,  but  to  their  own.    An  appeal  to  men's  self-sacri- 
ficing disposition  and  self-renouncing  love  ought  at  last 
to  have  lost  its  seductive  plausibility  when,  after  an 


326  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


activity  of  thousands  of  years,  it  has  left  nothing  behind 
but  the — misere  of  to-day.  Why  then  still  fruitlessly 
expect  self-sacrifice  to  bring  us  better  times?  why  not 
rather  hope  for  them  from  usurpation?  Salvation  comes 
no  longer  from  the  giver,  the  bestower,  the  loving  one, 
but  from  the  taker,  the  appropriator  (usurper),  the  own- 
er. Communism,  and,  consciously  or  unconsciously, 
egoism-reviling  humanism,  still  count  on  love. 

If  community  is  once  a  need  of  man,  and  he  finds 
himself  furthered  by  it  in  his  aims,  then  very  soon, 
because  it  has  become  his  principle,  it  prescribes  to  him 
its  laws  too,  the  laws  of — society.  The  principle  of  men 
exalts  itself  into  a  sovereign  power  over  them,  becomes 
their  supreme  essence,  their  God,  and,  as  such — -lawgiver. 
Communism  gives  this  principle  the  strictest  effect,  and 
Christianity  is  the  religion  of  society,  for,  as  Feuerbach 
rightly  says  although  he  does  not  mean  it  rightly,  love  is 
the  essence  of  man ;  i.  e.  the  essence  of  society  or  of 
societary  (Communistic)  man.  All  religion  is  a  cult  of 
society,  this  principle  by  which  societary  (cultivated) 
man  is  dominated ;  neither  is  any  god  an  ego's  exclusive 
god,  but  always  a  society's  or  community's,  be  it  of  the 
society  ''family"  (Lar.  Penates)  or  of  a  ''people" 
("national  god")  or  of  "all  men"  ("he  is  a  Father  of 
all  men").. 

Consequently  one  has  a  prospect  of  extirpating  religion 
down  to  the  ground  only  when  one  antiquates  society  and 
everything  that  flows  from  this  principle.  But  it  is  pre- 
cisely in  Communism  that  this  principle  seeks  to  culmin- 
ate, as  in  it  everything  is  to  become  common  for  the  estab- 
lishment of — "equality."  If  this  "equality"  is  won, 
"liberty"  too  is  not  lacking.  But  whose  liberty?  Society  s! 
Society  is  then  all  in  all,  and  men  are  only  "for  each 
other."    It  would  be  the  glory  of  the — love-State. 

But  I  would  rather  be  referred  to  men's  selfishness 
than  to  their  "kindnesses,"*  their  mercy,  pity,  etc.  The 
former  demands  reciprocity  (as  thou  to  me,  so  I  to 


*  [Literally,  "Jove-services."] 


THE  OWNER 


327 


thee),  does  nothing  ''gratis/'  and  may  be  won  and — 
bought.  But  with  what  shall  I  obtain  the  kindness?  It 
is  a  matter  of  chance  whether  I  am  at  the  time  having 
to  do  with  a  ''loving''  person.  The  affectionate  one's 
service  can  be  had  only  by — begging,  be  it  by  my  lament- 
able appearance,  by  my  need  of  help,  my  misery,  my — 
suffering.  What  can  I  offer  him  for  his  assistance? 
Nothing!  I  must  accept  it  as  a — present.  Love  is  im- 
payable,  or  rather,  love  can  assuredly  be  paid  for,  but 
only  by  counter-love  ("One  good  turn  deserves  an- 
other"). What  paltriness  and  beggarliness  does  it  not 
take  to  accept  gifts  year  in  and  year  out  without  service 
in  return,  as  they  are  regularly  collected  e.  g,  from  the 
poor  day-laborer  ?  What  can  the  receiver  do  for  him  and 
his  donated  pennies,  in  which  his  wealth  consists?  The 
day-laborer  would  really  have  more  enjoyment  if  the 
receiver  with  his  laws,  'his  institutions,  etc.,  all  of  which 
the  day-laborer  has  to  pay  for  though,  did  not  exist  at  all. 
And  yet,  with  it  all,  the  poor  wight  loves  his  master. 

No,  community,  as  the  "goal"  of  history,  hitherto,  is 
impossible.  Let  us  rather  renounce  every  hypocrisy  of 
community,  and  recognize  that,  if  we  are  equal  as  men, 
we  are  not  equal  for  the  very  reason  that  we  are  not 
men.  We  are  equal  only  in  thoughts,  only  when  "we'* 
are  thought,  not  as  we  really  and  bodily  are.  I  am  ego, 
and  you  are  ego:  but  I  am  not  this  thought-of  ego;  this 
ego  in  which  we  are  all  equal  is  only  my  thought.  I  am 
man,  and  you  are  man:  but  "man"  is  only  a  thought,  a 
generality;  neither  you  nor  I  are  speakable,  we  are  un- 
utterable, because  only  thoughts  are  speakable  and  con- 
sist in  speaking. 

Let  us  therefore  not  aspire  to  community,  but  to  one- 
side  dness.  Let  us  not  seek  the  most  comprehensive  com- 
mune, "human  society,"  but  let  us  seek  in  others  only 
means  and  organs  which  we  may  use  as  our  property ! 
As  we  do  not  see  our  equals  in  the  tree,  the  beast,  so  the 
presupposition  that  others  are  our  equals  springs  from  a 
hypocrisy.  No  one  is  my  equal,  but  I  regard  him,  equally 
with  all  other  beings,  as  my  property.    In  opposition  to 


328  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


this  I  am  told  that  I  should  be  a  man  among  ^^fellow- 
men''  {''Judenfrage''  p.  60)  ;  I  should  ''respect"  the 
fellow-man  in  them.  For  me  no  one  is  a  person  to  be 
respected,  not  even  the  fellow-man,  but  solely,  like  other 
beings,  an  object  in  which  I  take  an  interest  or  else  do 
not,  an  interesting  or  uninteresting  object,  a  usable  or 
unusable  person. 

And,  if  I  can  use  him,  I  doubtless  come  to  an  under- 
standing and  make  myself  at  one  with  him,  in  order,  by 
the  agreement,  to  strengthen  my  power,  and  by  combined 
force  to  accomplish  more  than  individual  force  could 
effect.  In  this  combination  I  see  nothing  whatever  but 
a  multiplication  of  my  force,  and  I  retain  it  only  so  long 
as  it  is  my  multiplied  force.    But  thus  it  is  a — union. 

Neither  a  natural  ligature  nor  a  spiritual  one  holds  the 
union  together,  and  it  is  not  a  natural,  not  a  spiritual 
league.  It  is  not  brought  about  by  one  blood,  not  by  one 
faith  (spirit).  In  a  natural  league — like  a  family,  a  tribe, 
a  nation,  yes,  mankind— the  individuals  have  only  the 
value  of  specimens  of  the  same  species  or  genus ;  in  a 
spiritual  league — like  a  commune,  a  church — the  indi- 
vidual signifies  only  a  member  of  the  same  spirit;  what 
you  are  in  both  cases  as  a  unique  person  must  be — sup- 
pressed. Only  in  the  union  can  you  assert  yourself  as 
unique,  because  the  union  does  not  possess  you,  but  you 
possess  it  or  make  it  of  use  to  you. 

Property  is  recognized  in  the  union,  and  only  in  the 
union,  because  one  no  longer  holds  what  is  his  as  a  fief 
from  any  being.  The  Communists  are  only  consistently 
carrying  further  what  had  already  been  long  present  dur- 
ing religious  evolution,  and  especially  in  the  State ;  to 
wit,  propertylessness,  i.  e.  the  feudal  system. 

The  State  exerts  itself  to  tame  the  desirous  man;  in 
ohter  words,  it  seeks  to  direct  his  desire  to  let  it  alone, 
and  to  content  that  desire  with  what  it  offers.  To  state 
the  desire  for  the  desirous  man's  sake  does  not  come 
into  his  mind :  on  the  contrary,  it  stigmatizes  as  an  "ego- 
istic man"  the  man  who  breathes  out  unbridled  desire, 
and  the  ''egoistic  man"  is  its  enemy.    He  is  this  for  it 


THE  OWNER 


329 


because  the  capacity  to  agree  with  him  is  wanting  to  the 
State;  the  egoist  is  precisely  what  it  cannot  "compre- 
hend/" Since  the  State  (as  nothing  else  is  possible) 
has  to  do  only  for  itself,  it  does  not  take  care  for  my 
needs,  but  takes  care  only  of  how  it  shall  make  away 
with  me,  i.  e,  make  out  of  me  another  ego,  a  good  citi- 
zen. It  takes  measures  for  the  ''improvement  of  mor-^ 
als/' — And  with  what  does  it  win  individuals  for  itself? 
With  iself,  i.  e.  with  what  is  the  State's,  with  State  prop- 
erty. It  will  be  unremitting'ly  active  in  making  all  par- 
ticipants in  its  ''goods,''  providing  all  with  the  "good 
things  of  culture" ;  its  presents  them  its  education,  opens, 
to  them  the  access  to  its  institutions  of  culture,  capaci- 
tates them  to  come  to  property  (i.  e.  to  a  fief)  in  the 
way  of  industry,  etc.  For  all  these  fiefs  it  demands  only 
the  just  rent  of  continual  thanks.  But  the  "unthankful" 
forget  to  pay  these  thanks. — Now,  neither  can  "society" 
do  essentially  otherwise  than  the  State. 

You  bring  into  a  union  your  whole  power,  your  com- 
petence, and  make  yourself  count;  in  a  society  you  are 
employed,  with  your  working  power ;  in  the  former  you 
live  egoistically,  in  the  latter  humanly,  i.  e.  religiously, 
as  a  "member  in  the  body  of  this  Lord" :  to  a  society  you 
owe  what  you  have,  and  are  in  duty  bound  to  it,  are — 
possessed  by  "social  duties" ;  a  union  you  utilize,  and 
give  it  up  undutifully  and  unfaithfully  when  you  see 
no  way  to  use  it  further.  If  a  society  is  more  than  you, 
then  it  is  more  to  you  than  yourself ;  a  union  is  only 
your  instrument,  or  the  sword  with  which  you  sharpen 
and  increase  your  natural  force ;  the  union  exists  for  you 
and  through  you,  the  society  conversely  lays  claim  to  you 
for  itself  and  exists  even  without  you;  in  short,  the 
society  is  sacred,  the  union  your  own;  the  society  con- 
sumes you,  you  consume  the  union. 

Nevertheless  people  will  not  be  backward  with  the 
objection  that  the  agreement  which  has  been  concluded 
may  again  become  burdensome  to  us  and  limit  our  free- 
dom ;  they  will  say,  we  too  would  at  last  come  to  this, 
that  "every  one  must  sacrifice  a  part  of  his  freedom 


330  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


for  the  sake  of  the  generality."  But  the  sacrifice  would 
not  be  made  for  the  ''generality's''  sake  a  bit,  as  little 
as  I  concluded  the  agreement  for  the  ''generality's"  or 
even  for  any  other  man's  sake;  rather  I  came  into  it 
only  for  the  sake  of  my  own  benefit,  from  selfishness,'^ 
But,  as  regards  the  sacrificing,  surely  "sacrifice"  only 
that  which  does  not  stand  in  my  power,  i.  e,  I  "sacrifice" 
nothing  at  all. 

To  come  back  to  property,  the  lord  is  proprietor. 
Choose  then  whether  you  want  to  be  lord,  or  whether 
society  shall  be!  On  this  depends  whether  you  are  to 
be  an  owner  or  a  ragamuffin!  The  egoist  is  owner,  the 
Socialist  a  ragamuffin.  But  ragamufiinism  or  property- 
lessness  is  the  sense  of  feudalism,  of  the  feudal  system, 
which  since  the  last  century  has  only  changed  its  over- 
lord, putting  "Man"  in  the  place  of  God,  and  accepting 
as  a  fief  from  Man  what  had  before  been  a  fief  from 
the  grace  of  God.  That  the  ragamuffinism  of  Com- 
munism is  carried  out  by  the  humane  principle  into  the 
absolute  or  most  ragamuffinly  ragamuffinism  has  -  been 
shown  above ;  but  at  the  same  time  also,  how  ragamuffin- 
ism can  only  thus  swing  around  into  ownness.  The  old 
feudal  system  was  so  thoroughly  trampled  into  the 
ground  in  the  Revolution  that  since  then  all  reactionary 
craft  has  remained  fruitless,  and  will  remain  fruitless, 
because  the  dead  is — dead ;  but  the  resurrection  too  had 
to  prove  itself  a  truth  in  Christian  history,  and  has  so 
proved  itself ;  for  in  another  world  feudalism  is  risen 
again  with  a  glorified  body,  the  new  feudalism  under  the 
suzerainty  of  "Man." 

Christianity  is  not  annihilated,  but  the  faithful  are  . 
right  in  having  hitherto  truthfully  assumed  of  every 
combat  against  it  that  this  could  serve  only  for  the  pur- 
gation and  confirmation- of  Christianity;  for  it  has  really 
only  been  glorified,  and  "Christianity  exposed"  is  the — 
human  Christianity,  We  are  still  living  entirely  in  the 
Christian  age,  and  the  very  ones  who  feel  worst  about 


*  [Literally,  "own-benefit."] 


THE  OWNER 


331 


it  are  the  most  zealously  contributing  to  ''complete^'  it. 
The  more  human,  the  dearer  has  feudalism  become  to 
us;  for  we  the  less  believe  that  it  still  is  feudalism,  we 
take  it  the  more  confidently  for  ownness  and  think  we 
have  found  what  is  ''most  absolutely  our  own'*  when 
we  discover  ''the  human/' 

Liberalism  wants  to  give  me  what  is  mine,  but  it 
thinks  to  procure  it  for  me  not  under  the  title  of  mine, 
but  under  that  of  the  "human/'  As  if  it  were  attain- 
able under  this  mask !  The  rights  of  man,  the  precious 
work  of  the  Revolution,  have  the  meaning  that  the  Man 
in  me  entities'^  me  to  this  and  that ;  I  as  individual,  i,  e, 
as  this  man,  am  not  entitled,  but  Man  has  the  right  and 
entitles  me.  Hence  as  man  I  may  well  be  entitled ;  but, 
as  I  am  more  than  man,  to  wit,  a  special  man,  it  may  be 
refused  to  this  very  me,  the  special  one.  If  on  the  other 
hand  you  insist  on  the  value  of  your  gifts,  keep  up  their 
price,  do  not  let  )^ourselves  be  forced  to  sell  out  below 
price,  do  not  let  yourselves  be  talked  into  the  idea  that 
your  ware  is  not  worth  its  price,  do  not  make  yourselves 
ridiculous  by  a  "ridiculous  price,''  but  imitate  the  brave 
man  who  says,  I  will  sell  my  life  (property)  dear,  the 
enemy  shall  not  have  it  at  a  cheap  bargain;  then  you  have 
recognized  the  reverse  of  Communism  as  the  correct 
thing,  and  the  word  then  is  not  "Give  up  your  property !" 
but  ''Get  the  value  out  of  your  property !" 

Over  the  portal  of  our  time  stands  not  that  "Know 
thyself"  of  Apollo,  but  a  ''Get  the  value  out  of  thyself  T 

Proudhon  calls  property  "robbery"  (le  vol).  But 
alien  property — and  he  is  talking  of  this  alone — if  not 
less  existent  by  renunciation,  cession,  and  humility ;  it 
is  a  present.  Why  so  sentimentally  call  for  compassion 
as  a  poor  victim  of  robbery,  when  one  is  just  a  foolish, 
cowardly  giver  of  presents?  Why  here  again  put  the 
fault  on  others  as  if  they  were  robbing  us,  while  we 
ourselves  do  bear  the  fault  in  leaving  the  others  un- 


*  [Literally,  furnishes  me  with  a  right.] 


332 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


robbed?  The  poor  are  to  blame  for  there  being  rich 
men. 

Universally,  no  one  grows  indignant  at  his,  but  at 
alien  property.  They  do  not  in  truth  attack  property, 
but  the  alienation  of  property.  They  want  to  be  able 
to  call  more,  not  less,  theirs;  they  want  to  call  every- 
thing theirs.  They  are  fighting,  therefore,  against  alien- 
ness,  or,  to  form  a  word  similar  to  property,  against 
alienty.  And  how  do  they  help  themselves  therein? 
Instead  of  transforming  the  alien  into  own,  they  play 
impartial  and  ask  only  that  all  property  be  left  to  a 
third  party  {e.  g.  human  society).  They  revendicate 
the  alien  not  in  their  own  name  but  in  a  third  party's. 
Now  the  "egoistic"  coloring  is  wiped  ofif,  and  everything 
is  so  clean  and — human ! 

Propertylessness  or  ragamuffinism,  this  then  is  the 
''essence  of  Christianity,"  as  it  is  the  essence  of  all  re- 
ligiousness {i.  e.  godliness,  morality,  humanity),  and 
only  announced  itself  most  clearly,  and,  as  glad  tidings, 
became  as  gospel  capable  of  development,  in  the  ''abso- 
lute religion."  We  have  before  us  the  most  striking 
development  in  the  present  fight  against  property,  a  fight 
which  is  to  bring  "Man"  to  victory  and  make  property- 
lessness complete :  victorious  humanity  is  the  victory  of 
— Christianity.  But  the  "Christianity  exposed"  thus  is 
feudalism  completed,  the  most  all-embracing  feudal  sys- 
tem, i.  e,  perfect  ragamuffinism. 

Once  more  then,  doubtless,  a  "revolution"  against  the 
feudal  system? 

Revolution  and  insurrection  must  not  be  looked  upon 
as  synonymous.  The  former  consists  in  an  overturning 
of  conditions,  of  the  established  condition  or  status,  the 
State  or  society,  and  is  accordingly  a  political  or  social 
act ;  the  latter  has  indeed  for  its  unavoidable  consequence 
a  transformation  of  circumstances,  yet  does  not  start 
from  it  but  from  men's  discontent  with  themselves,  is 
not  an  armed  rising,  but  a  rising  of  individuals,  a  getting 
up,  without  regard  to  the  arrangements  that  spring  from 
it.  The  Revolution  aimed  at  new  arrangements;  insur- 


THE  OWNER 


3oJ 


rection  leads  us  no  longer  to  let  ourselves  be  arranged, 
but  to  arrange  ourselves,  and  sets  no  glittering  hopes  on 
''institutions."  It  is  not  a  fight  against  the  established, 
since,  if  it  prospers,  the  established  collapses  of  itself; 
it  is  only  a  working  forth  of  me  out  of  the  established. 
If  I  leave  the  established,  it  is  dead  and  passe^^  into 
decay.  Now,  as  my  object  is  not  the  overthrow  of  an 
established  order  but  my  elevation  above  it,  my  purpose 
and  deed  are  not  a  political  or  social  but  (as  directed 
toward  myself  and  my  ownness  alone)  an  egoiStic  pur- 
pose and  deed. 

The  revolution  commands  one  to  make  arrangements, 
the  insurrection*  demands  that  he  rise  or  exalt  himself 
What  constitution  was  to  be  chosen,  this  question  busied 
the  revolutionary  heads,  and  the  whole  political  period 
foams  with  constitutional  fights  and  constitutional  ques- 
tions, as  the  social  talents  too  were  uncommonly  in- 
ventive in  societary  arrangements  (phalansteries  and  the 
like).  The  insurgent:}:  strives  to  become  constitution- 
less. 

While,  to  get  greater  clearness,  I  am  thinking  up  a 
comparison,  the  founding  of  Christianity  comes  unex- 
pectedly into  my  mind.  On  the  liberal  side  it  is  noted 
as  a  bad  point  in  the  first  Chris'tians  that  they  preached 
obedience  to  the  established  heathen  civil  order,  enjoined 
recognition  of  the  heathen  authorities,  and  confidently 
delivered  a  command,  ''Give  to  the  emperor  that  which 
is  the  emperor's.''  Yet  how  much  disturbance  arose 
at  the  same  time  against  the  Roman  supremacy,  how 
mutinous  did  the  Jews  and  even  the  Romans  show  them- 
selves against  their  own  temporal  government !  in  short, 
how  popular  was  "political  discontent"!  Those  Chris- 
tians would  hear  nothing  of  it;  would  not  side  with  the 


*  [Empoerung]  f  [sich  auf-oder  emporsurichtenl 

%  To  secure  myself  against  a  criminal  charge  I  superfluously 
make  the  express  remark  that  I  choose  the  word  "insurrection" 
on  account  of  its  etymological  sense,  and  therefore  am  not  using 
it  in  the  limited  sense  which  is  disallowed  by  the  penal  code. 


334 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


''liberal  tendencies."  The  time  was  politically  so  agi- 
tated that,  as  is  said  in  the  gospels,  people  thought  they 
could  not  accuse  the  founder  of  Christianity  more  suc- 
cessfully than  if  they  arraigned  him  for  ''political  in- 
trigue,'' and  yet  the  same  gospels  report  that  he  was 
precisely  the  one  who  took  least  part  in  these  political 
doings.  But  why  was  he  not  a  revolutionist,  not  a  dema- 
gogue, as  the  Jews  would  gladly  have  seen  him?  why 
was  he  not  a  liberal?  Because  he  expected  no  salvation 
from  a  change  of  conditions,  and  this  whole  business  was 
indifferent  to  him.  He  was  not  a  revolutionist  like  e,  g. 
Caesar,  but  an  insurgent ;  not  a  State-overturner,  but  one 
who  straightened  himself  up.  That  was  why  it  was  for 
him  only  a  matter  of  "Be  ye  wise  as  serpents,''  which 
expresses  the  same  sense  as,  in  the  special  case,  that 
"Give  to  the  emperor  that  which  is  the  emperor's" ;  for 
he  was  not  carrying  on  any  liberal  or  political  fight 
against  the  established  authorities,  but  wanted  to  walk 
his  own  way,  untroubled  about,  and  undisturbed  by,  these 
authorities.  Not  less  indifferent  to  him  than  the  gov- 
ernment were  its  enemies,  for  neither  understood  what 
he  wanted,  and  he  had  only  to  keep  them  off  from  him 
with  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent.  But,  even  though  not 
a  ringleader  of  popular  mutiny,  not  a  demagogue  or 
revolutionist,  he  (and  every  one  of  the  ancient  Chris- 
tians) was  so  much  the  more  an  insurgent,  who  lifted 
himself  above  everything  that  seemed  sublime  to  the 
government  and  its  opponents,  and  absolved  himself 
from  everything  that  they  remained  bound  to,  and  who 
at  the  same  time  cut  off  the  sources  of  life  of  the  whole 
heathen  world,  with  which  the  established  State  must 
wither  away  as  a  matter  of  course ;  precisely  because 
he  put  from  him  the  upsetting  of  the  established,  he  was 
its  deadly  enemy  and  real  annihilator ;  for  he  walled  it 
in,  confidently  and  recklessly  carrying  up  the  building 
of  his  temple  over  it,  without  heeding  the  pains  of  the 
immured. 

Now,  as  it  happened  to  the  heathen  order  of  the  world, 
will  the  Christian  order  fare  likewise?    A  revolution 


THE  OWNER 


335 


certainly  does  not  (bring  on  the  end  if  an  insurrection 
is  not  consummated  first! 

My  intercourse  with  the  world,  what  does  it  aim  at  ? 
I  want  to  have  the  enjoyment  of  it,  therefore  it  must 
be  my  property,  and  therefore  I  want  to  win  it.  I  do 
not  want  the  liberty  of  men,  nor  their  equality;  I  want 
only  my  power  over  them,  I  want  to  make  them  my 
property,  i.  e.  material  for  enjoyment.  And,  if  I  do  not 
succeed  in  that,  well,  then  I  call  even  the  power  over 
life  and  death,  which  Church  and  State  reserved  to  them- 
selves— mine.  Brand  that  officer's  widow  who,  in  the 
flight  in  Russia,  after  her  leg  has  been  shot  away,  takes 
the  garter  from  it,  strangles  her  child  therewith,  and 
then  bleeds  to  death  alongside  the  corpse — brand  the 
memory  of  the — infanticide.  Who  knows,  if  this  child 
had  remained  alive,  how  much  it  might  have  ''been  of 
use  to  the  world" !  The  mother  murdered  it  because 
she  wanted  to  die  satisfied  and  at  rest.  Perhaps  this 
case  still  appeals  to  your  sentimentality,  and  you  do 
not  know  how  to  read  out  of  it  anything  further.  Be 
it  so;  I  on  my  part  use  it  as  an  example  for  this,  that 
my  satisfaction  decides  about  my  relation  to  men,  and 
that  I  do  not  renounce,  from  any  access  of  humility,  even 
the  power  over  life  and  death. 

As  regards  ''social  duties"  in  general,  another  does 
not  give  me  my  position  toward  others,  therefore  neither 
God  nor  humanity  prescribes  to  me  my  relation  to  men, 
but  I  give  myself  this  position.  This  is  more  strikingly 
said  thus :  I  have  no  duty  to  others,  as  I  have  a  duty  even 
to  myself  {e,  ig.  that  of  self-preservation,  and  therefore 
not  suicide)  only  so  long  as  I  distinguish  myself  from 
myself  (my  immortal  soul  from  my  earthly  existence, 
etc.). 

I  no  longer  humble  myself  before  any  power,  and  I 
recognize  that  all  powers  are  only  my  power,  which  I 
have  to  subject  at  once  when  they  threaten  to  become 
a  power  against  or  above  me ;  each  of  them  must  be 
only  one  of  my  means  to  carry  my  point,  as  a  hound  is 
our  power  against  game,  but  is  killed  by  us  if  it  should 


336 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


fall  upon  us  ourselves.  All  powers  that  dominate  me 
I  then  reduce  to  serving  me.  The  idols  exist  through 
me ;  I  need  only  refrain  from  creating  them  anew,  then 
they  exist  no  longer :  "higher  powers"  exist  only  through 
my  exalting  them  and  abasing  myself. 

Consequently  my  relation  to  the  world  is  this:  I  no  ' 
longer  do  anything  for  it  "for  God's  sake,"  I  do  nothing 
"for  man's  sake,"  but  what  I  do  I  do  "for  my  sake." 
Thus  alone  does  the  world  satisfy  me,  while  it  is  charac- 
teristic of  the  religious  standpoint,  in  which  I  include 
the  moral  and  humane  also,  that  from  it  everything 
remains  a  pious  wish  (pium  desiderium) ,  i.  e,  an  other- 
world  matter,  something  unattained.  Thus  the  general 
salvation  of  men,  the  moral  world  of  a  general  love, 
eternal  peace,  the  cessation  of  egoism,  etc.  "Noth- 
ing in  this  world  is  perfect."  With  this  miserable  phrase 
the  good  part  from  it,  and  take  flight  into  their  closet  to 
God,  or  into  their  proud  "self-consciousness."  But  we 
remain  in  this  "imperfect"  world,  because  even  «so  we 
can  use  it  for  our — self -enjoyment. 

My  intercourse  with  the  world  consists  in  my  enjoy- 
ing it,  and  so  consuming  it  for  my  self-enjoyment.  Ifi^ 
tercourse  is  the  enjoyment  of  the  world,  and  belongs  to 
my — sei  f -en  j  oy^ent. 


III.— MY  SELF-ENJOYMENT 

We  stand  at  the  boundary  of  a  period.  The  world 
hitherto  took  thought  for  nothing  but  the  gain  of  life, 
to  care  for — life.  For  whether  all  activity  is  put  on 
the  stretch  for  the  life  of  this  world  or  of  the  other,  for 
the  temporal  or  for  the  eternal,  whether  one  hankers 
for  "daily  bread"  ("Give  us  our  daily  bread")  or  for 
"holy  bread"  ("the  true  bread  from  heaven";  "the  bread 
of  God,  that  comes  from  heaven  and  gives  life  to  the 


THE  OWNER 


337 


world";  ''the  bread  of  life/'  John  6),  whether  one  takes 
care  for  "dear  life''  or  for  'life  to  eternity" — this  does 
not  change  the  object  of  the  strain  and  care,  which  in 
the  one  case  as  in  the  other  shows  itsel  to  be  life.  Do 
the  modern  tendencies  announce  themselves  otherwise? 
People  now  want  nobody  to  be  embarrassed  for  the 
most  indispensable  necessaries  of  life,  but  want  every 
one  to  feel  secure  as  to  these;  and  on  the  other  hand 
they  teach  that  man  has  this  life  to  attend  to  and  the 
real  world  to  adapt  himself  to,  without  vain  care  for 
another. 

Let  us  take  up  the  same  thing  from  another  side. 
When  one  is  anxious  only  to  live,  he  easily,  in  this  so- 
licitude, forgets  the  enjoyment  of  life.  If  his  only  con- 
cern is  for  life,  and  he  thinks  "if  I  only  have  my  dear 
life,"  he  does  not  apply  his  full  strength  to  using,  i.  e, 
enjoying,  life.  But  how  does  one  use  life?  In  using  it 
up,  like  the  candle,  which  one  uses  in  burning  it  up. 
One  uses  life,  and  consequently  himself  the  living  one, 
in  consuming  it  and  himself.  Enjoyment  of  life  is  using 
life  up. 

Now — we  are  in  search  of  the  enjoyment  of  life! 
And  what  did  the  religious  world  do  ?  It  went  in  search 
of  life.  "Wherein  consists  the  true  life,  the  blessed 
life,  etc.?  How  is  it  to  be  attained?  Wliat  must  man 
do  and  become  in  order  to  become  a  truly  living  man? 
How  does  he  fulfil  this  calling?"  These  and  similar 
questions  indicate  that  the  askers  were  still  seeking  for 
themselves — to  wit,  themselves  in  the  true  sense,  in  the 
sense  of  true  living.  "What  I  am  is  foam  and  shadow; 
what  I  shall  be  is  my  true  self."  To  chase  after  this 
self,  to  produce  it,  to  realize  it,  constitutes  the  hard  task 
of  mortals,  who  die  only  to  rise  again,  live  only  to  die, 
live  only  to  find  the  true  life. 

Not  till  I  am  certain  of  myself,  and  no  longer  seek-- 
ing  for  myself,  am  I  really  my  property ;  I  have  myself, 
therefore  I  use  and  enjoy  myself.  On  the  other  hand, 
I  can  never  take  comfort  in  myself  so  long  as  I  think 
that  I  have  still  to  find  my  true  self  and  that  it  must 


338  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


come  to  this,  that  not  I  but  Christ  or  some  other  spir- 
itual, i.  e.  ghostly,  self  (e.  g,  the  true  man,  the  essence 
of  man,  and  the  like)  lives  in  me. 

A  vast  interval  separates  the  two  views.  In  the  old 
I  go  toward  myself,  in  the  new  I  start  from  myself ;  in 
the  former  I  long  for  myself,  in  the  latter  I  have  myself 
and  do  with  myself  as  one  does  with  any  other  property 
— I  enjoy  myself  at  my  pleasure.  I  am  no  longer  afraid 
for  my  life,  but  "squander"  it. 

Henceforth  the  question  runs,  not  how  one  can  ac- 
quire life,  but  how  one  can  squander,  enjoy  it  or;  not 
how  one  is  to  produce  the  true  self  in  himself,  but  how 
one  is  to  dissolve  himself,  to  live  himself  out. 

What  else  should  the  ideal  be  but  the  sought-for,  ever- 
distant  self?  One  seeks  for  himself,  consequently  one 
does  not  yet  have  himself ;  one  aspires  toward  what  one 
ought  to  be,  consequently  one  is  not  it.  One  lives  in 
longing  and  has  lived  thousands  of  years  in  it,  in  hope. 
Living  is  quite  another  thing  in — enjoyment! 

Does  this  perchance  apply  only  to  the  so-called  pious? 
No,  it  applies  to  all  who  belong  to  the  departing  period 
of  history,  even  to  its  men  of  pleasure.  For  them  too 
the  work-days  were  followed  by  a  Sunday,  and  the  rush 
of  the  world  by  the  dream  of  a  better  world,  of  a  gen- 
eral happiness  of  humanity;  in  short,  by  an  ideal.  But 
philosophers  especially  are  contrasted  with  the  pious. 
Now,  have  they  been  thinking  of  anything  else  than 
the  ideal,  been  planning  for  anything  else  than  the  abso- 
lute self?  Longing  and  Jiope  everywhere,  and  nothing 
but  these.    For  me,  call  it  romanticism. 

If  the  enjoyment  of  life  is  to  triumph  over  the  long- 
ing for  life  or  hope  of  life,  it  must  vanquish  this  in  its 
double  significance,  which  Schiller  introduces  in  his 
''Ideal  and  Life'' ;  it  must  crush  spiritual  and  secular 
poverty,  exterminate  the  ideal  and — the  want  of  daily 
bread.  He  who  must  expend  his  life  to  prolong  life 
cannot  enjoy  it,  and  he  who  is  still  seeking  for  his  life 
does  not  have  it  and  can  as  little  enjoy  it :  both  are  poor, 
but  ''blessed  are  the  poor.'' 


THE  OWNER 


339 


Those  who  are  hungering  for  the  true  life  have  no 
power  over  their  present  Hfe,  but  must  apply  it  for  the 
purpose  of  thereby  gaining  that  true  life,  and  must  sac- 
rifice it  entirely  to  this  aspiration  and  this  task.  If  in 
the  case  of  those  devotees  who  hope  for  a  life  in  the 
other  world,  and  look  upon  that  in  this  world  as  merely 
a  preparation  for  it,  the  tributariness  of  their  earthly 
existence,  which  they  put  solely  into  the  service  of  the 
hoped-for  heavenly  existence,  is  pretty  distinctly  appar- 
ent: one  would  yet  go  far  wrong  is  one  wanted  to  con- 
sider the  most  rationalistic  and  enlightened  as  less  self- 
sacrificing.  Oh,  there  is  to  be  found  in  the  "true  life''  a 
much  more  comprehensive  significance  than  the  "heaven- 
ly'' is  competent  to  express.  Now,  is  not— to  introduce 
the  liberal  concept  of  it  at  once — the  "human"  and  "truly 
human"  life  the  true  one?  And  is  every  one  already 
leading  the  truly  human  life  from  the  start,  or  must 
he  first  raise  himself  to  it  with  hard  toil?  Does  he  al- 
ready have  it  as  his  present  life,  of  must  he  struggle  for 
it  as  his  future  life,  which  will  become  his  part  only 
when  he  "is  no  longer  tainted  with  any  egoism"?  In 
this  view  life  exists  only  to  gain  life,  and  one  lives  only 
to  make  the  essence  of  man  alive  in  oneself,  one  lives 
for  the  sake  of  this  essence.  One  has  his  life  only  in 
order  to  procure  by  means  of  it  the  "true"  life  cleansed 
of  all  egoism.  Hence  one  is  afraid  to  make  any  use  he 
likes  of  his  life:  it  is  to  serve  only  for  the  "right  use." 

In  short,  one  has  a  calling  in  life,  a  task  in  life ;  one 
has  something  to  realize  and  produce  by  his  life,  a  some- 
thing for  which  our  life  is  only  means  and  implement,  a 
something  that  is  worth  more  than  thisJife,  a  something 
to  which  one  owes  his  life.  One  has  a  God  who  asks 
a  living  sacrifice.  Only  the  rudeness  of  human  sacrifice 
has  been  lost  with  time ;  human  sacrifice  itself  has  re- 
mained unabated,  and  criminals  4iourly  fall  sacrifices 
to  justice,  and  we  "poor  sinners"  slay  our  own  selves  as 
sacrifices  for  "the  human  essence,"  the  "idea  of  man- 
kind," ''humanity,"  and  whatever  the  idols  or  gods  are 
called  besides. 


340  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


But,  because  we  owe  our  Jife  to  that  something,  there- 
fore— ^this  is  the  next  point — we  have  no  right  to  take 
it  from  us. 

The  conservative  tendency  of  Christianity  does  not  per- 
mit thinking  of  death  otherwise  than  with  the  purpose  to 
take  its  sting  from  it  and — Hve  on  and  preserve  oneself 
nicely.  The  Christian  lets  everything  happen  and  come 
upon  him  if  he — ^the  arch-Jew — can  only  haggle  and 
struggle  himself  into  heaven;  he  must  not  kill  himself,  he 
must  only — preserve  himself  and  work  at  the  "prepara- 
tion of  a  future  abode/'  Conservatism  or  ^'conquest  of 
death''  lies  at  his  heart;  ''the  last  enemy  that  is  abolished 
is  death.""^  ''Christ  has  taken  the  power  from  death  and 
brought  life  and  imperishable  being  to  light  by  the  gos- 
pel."t  'Tmperishableness,"  stability. 

The  moral  man  wants  the  good,  the  right;  and,  if  he 
takes  to  the  means  that  lead  to  this  goal,  really  lead  to  it, 
then  these  means  are  not  his  means,  but  those  of  the 
good,  right,  etc.,  itself.  These  means  are  never  immoral, 
because  the  good  end  itself  mediates  itself  through  them: 
the  end  sanctifies  the  means.  They  call  this  maxim  Jesuit- 
ical, but  it  is  "moral"  through  and  through.  The  moral 
man  acts  in  the  service  of  an  end  or  an  idea :  he  makes 
himself  the  tool  of  the  idea  of  the  good,  as  the  pious 
man  counts  it  his  glory  to  be  a  tool  or  instrument  of 
God.  To  await  death  is  what  the  moral  commandment 
postulates  as  the  good;  to  give  it  to  oneself  is  immoral 
and  bad:  suicide  finds  no  excuse  before  the  judgment- 
seat  of  morality.  If  the  religious  man  forbids  it  because 
"you  have  not  given  yourself  life,  but  God,  who  alone 
can  also  take  it  from  you  again"  (as  if,  even  talking  in  this 
conception,  God  did  not  take  it  from  me  just  as  much 
when  I  kill  myself  as  when  a  tile  from  the  roof,  or  a 
hostile  bullet,  fells  me;  for  he  would  have  aroused  the 
resolution  of  death  in  me  too!),  the  moral  man  forbids 
it  because  I  owe  my  life  to  the  fatherland,  etc.,  "because 
I  do  not  know  whether  I  may  not  yet  accomplish  good 


*  1  Cor.  15,  26. 


t2  Tim.  1,  10. 


THE  OWNER 


341 


by  my  life."  Of  course,  for  in  me  good  loses  a  tool,  as 
God  does  an  instrument.  If  I  am  immoral,  the  good  is 
served  in  my  amendment;  if  I  am  ^'ungodly,"  God  has 
joy  in  my  penitence.  Suicide,  therefore,  is  ungodly  as 
i  well  as  nefarious.  If  one  whose  standpoint  is  religious- 
ness takes  his  own  life,  he  acts  in  forgetfulness  of  God; 
but,  if  the  suicide's  standpoint  is  morality,  he  acts  in  for- 
getfulness of  duty,  immorality.  People  worried  them- 
selves much  with  the  question  whether  Emilia  Galotti's 
death  can  be  justified  before  morality  (they  take  it  as  if 
it  were  suicide,  which  it  is  too  in  substance).  That  she  is 
so  infatuated  with  chastity,  this  moral  good,  as  to  yield 
up  even  her  life  for  it  is  certainly  moral ;  but,  again,  that 
she  fears  the  weakness  of  her  flesh  is  immoral."^  Such 
contradictions  form  the  tragic  conflict  universally  in  the 
moral  drama;  and  one  must  think  and  feel  morally  to 
be  able  to  take  an  interest  in  it. 

What  holds  good  of  piety  and  morality  will  necessarily 
apply  to  humanity  also,  because  one  owes  his  life  like- 

*  [See  the  next  to  the  last  scene  of  the  tragedy: 

Odoardo.  Under  the  pretext  of  a  judicial  investigation  he 
tears  you  out  of  our  arms  and  takes  you  to  Grimaldi.  .  .  . 

Emilia.    Give  me  that  dagger,  father,  me !  .  .  . 

Odoardo.    No,  no !  Reflect — You  too  have  only  one  life  to  lose 

Emilia.    And  only  one  innocence ! 

Odoardo.   Which  is  above  the  reach  of  any  violence. — 

Emilia.  But  not  above  the  reach  of  any  seduction. — Violence ! 
violence!  who  cannot  defy  violence?  What  is  called  violence  is 
nothing;  seduction  is  the  true  violence. — I  have  blood,  father; 
blood  as  youthful  and  warm  as  anybody's.  My  senses  are  senses. 
— I  can  warrant  nothing.  I  am  sure  of  nothing.  I  know  Grim- 
aldi's  house.  It  is  the  house  of  pleasure.  An  hour  there,  under 
my  mother's  eyes — and  there  arose  in  my  soul  so  much  tumult  as 
the  strictest  exercises  of  religion  could  hardly  quiet  in  weeks.— 
Religion !  And  what  religion  ? — To  escape  nothing  worse,  thou- 
sands sprang  into  the  water  and  are  saints. — Give  me  that  dagger, 
father,  give  it  to  me.  ... 

Emilia..  .Once  indeed  there  was  a  father  who,  to  save  his 
daughter  from  shame,  drove  into  her  heart  whatever  steel  he 
could  quickest  find — gave  life  to  her  for  the  second  time.  But 
all  such  deeds  are  of  the  past!  Of  such  fathers  there  are  no 
more. 

Odoardo.    Yes,  daughter,  yes!    (Stabs  her,)] 


342  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


wise  to  man,  mankind  or  the  species.  Only  when  I  am 
under  obHgation  to  no  being  is  the  maintaining  of  life— ' 
my  affair.         leap  from  this  bridge  makes  me  freeT' 

But,  if  we  owe  the  maintaining  of  our  life  to  that 
being  that  we  are  to  make  alive  in  ourselves,  it  is  not 
less  our  duty  not  to  lead  this  life  according  to  our  pleas- 
ure, but  to  shape  it  in  conformity  to  that  being.  All  my 
feeling,  thinking,  and  willing,  all  my  doing  and  designing, 
belongs  to — him.  I 

What  is  in  conformity  to  that  being  is  to  be  inferred  ll 
from  his  concept ;  and  how  (differently  has  this  concept 
been  conceived !  or  how  differently  has  that  being  been 
imagined !  What  demands  the  Supreme  Being  makes  on 
the  Mohammedan;  what  different  ones  the  Christian, 
again,  thinks  he  hears  from  him ;  how  divergent,  there- 
fore, must  the  shaping  of  the  lives  of  the  two  turn  out !  ^ 
Only  this  do  all  hold  fast,  that  the  Supreme  Being  is^ 
to  judged  our  life. 

But  the  pious  who  have  their  judge  in  God,  and  in  hisi; 
word  a  book  of  directions  for  their  life,  I  everywhere' 
pass  by  only  reminiscently,  because  they  belong  to  ai 
period  of  development  that  has  been  lived  through,  and 
as  petrifactions  they  may  remain  in  their  fixed  place  right 
along;  in  our  time  it  is  no  longer  the  pious,  but  the  lib- 
erals, who  have  the  floor,  and  piety  itself  cannot  keep  l 
from  reddening  its  pale  face  with  liberal  coloring.  But 
the  liberals  do  not  adore  their  judge  in  God,  and  do  not 
tmfold  their  life  by  the  directions  of  the  divine  word, 
out  regulatef  themselves  by  man :  they  want  to  be  not  | 
**divine''  but  "human,"  and  to  live  so. 

Man  is  the  liberal's  supreme  being,  man  the  judge  of  | 
his  life,  humanity  his  directions,  or  catechism.    God  is 
spirit,  but  man  is  the  "most  perfect  spirit,"  the  final  result 
of  the  long  chase  after  the  spirit  or  of  the  "searching  in  ; 
the  depths  of  the  Godhead,"  i,  e,  in  the  depths  of  the  | 
spirit.  I 

Every  one  of  your  traits  is  to  be  human ;  you  yourself 


*rOr,  ''regulate"  {richten)] 


t  [richten'] 


THE  OWNER 


343 


n  are  to  be  so  from  top  to  toe,  in  the  inward  as  in  the 
-  outward ;  for  humanity  is  your  calling. 
'  CalHng — destiny — task ! — 

What  one  can  become  he  does  become.  A  born  poet 
jt  may  well  be  hindered  by  the  disfavor  of  circumstances 
from  standing  on  the  high  level  of  his  time,  and,  after 
y  the  great  studies  that  are  indispensable  for  this,  produc- 
M  ing  consummate  works  of  art ;  but  he  will  make  poetry, 
be  he  a  plowman  or  so  lucky  as  to  live  at  the  court 
J  of  Weimar.  A  born  musician  will  make  music,  no 
t  matter  whether  on  all  instruments  or  only  on  an  oaten 
n  pipe.  A  born  philosophical  head  can  give  proof  of  itself 
n  as  university  philosopher  or  as  village  philosopher.  Fin- 
i  ally,  a  born  dolt,  who,  as  is  very  well  compatible  with  this, 
i-  may  at  the  same  time  be  a  sly-boots,  will  (as  probably 
:!  every  one  who  has  visited  schools  is  in  a  position  to 
s  exemplify  to  himself  by  many  instances  of  fellow- 
scholars)  always  remain  a  blockhead,  let  him  have  been 
s  drilled  and  trained  into  the  chief  of  a  bureau,  or  let  him 
e  serve  that  same  chief  as  bootblack.  Nay,  the  born  shal- 
a  low-pates  indisputably  form  the  most  numerous  class  of 
d  men.  And  why,  indeed,  should  not  the  same  distinctions 
It  show  themselves  in  the  human  species  that  are  unmis  - 
h  takable  in  every  species  of  beasts?  The  more  gifted  and 
p  .he  less  gifted  are  to  be  found  everywhere, 
it  Only  a  few,  however,  are  so  imbecile  that  one  could 
i  not  get  ideas  into  them.  Hence  people  usually  consider 
1.  all  men  capable  of  having  religion.  In  a  certain  degree 
t  they  may  be  trained  to  other  ideas  too,  e,  g,  to  some 
musical  intelligence,  even  some  philosophy,  etc.  At  this 
f  point  then  the  priesthood  of  religion,  of  morality,  of 
s  culture,  of  science,  etc.,  takes  its  start,  and  the  Com- 
[  munists,  e,  g.,  want  to  make  everything  accessible  to  all 
1  by  their  "public  school."  There  is  heard  a  common  asser- 
j  tion  that  this  ''great  mass"  cannot  get  along  without 
religion ;  the  Communists  broaden  it  into  the  proposition 
f  that  not  only  the  ''great  mass,"  but  absolutely  all,  are 
.  called  to  everything. 

Not  enough  that  the  great  mass  has  been  trained  to 


344 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


religion,  now  it  is  actually  to  have  to  occupy  itself  with 
'  everything  human/'  Training  is  growing  ever  more 
general  and  more  comprehensive. 

You  poor  beings  who  could  live  so  happily  if  you 
might  skip  according  to  your  mind,  you  are  to  dance  to 
the  pipe  of  schoolmasters  and  bear-leaders,  in  order  to 
perform  tricks  that  you  yourselves  would  never  use  your- 
selves for.  And  you  do  not  even  kick  out  of  the  traces 
at  last  against  being  always  taken  otherwise  than  you 
want  to  give  ourselves.  No,  you  mechanically  recite 
to  yourselves  the  question  that  is  recited  to  you :  ''What 
am  I  called  to?  What  ought  I  to  do?"  You  need  only 
ask  thus,  to  have  yourselves  told  what  you  ought  to  do 
and  ordered  to  do  it,  to  have  your  calling  marked  out  for. 
you,  or  else  to  order  yourselves  and  impose  it  on  your- 
selves according  to  the  spirit's  prescription.  Then  in  ref- 
erence to  the  will  the  word  is,  I  will  to  do  what  I  ought, 

A  man  is  "called''  to  nothing,  and  has  no  "calling," 
no  "destiny,"  as  little  as  a  plant  or  a  beast  has  a  "call- 
ing." The  flower  does  not  follow  the  calling  to  complete 
itself,  but  it  spends  all  its  forces  to  enjoy  and  consume 
the  world  as  well  as  it  can — i.  e.  it  sucks  in  as  much  of  the 
juices  of  the  earth,  as  much  air  of  the  ether,  as  much 
light  of  the  sun,  as  it  can  get  and  lodge.  The  bird  lives 
up  to  no  calling,  but  it  uses  its  forces  as  much  as  is  prac- 
ticable ;  it  catches  beetles  and  sings  to  its  heart's  delight. 
But  the  forces  of  the  flower  and  the  bird  are  slight  in 
comparison  to  those  of  a  man,  and  a  man  who  applies  his 
forces  will  affect  the  world  much  more  powerfully  than 
flower  and  beast.  A  calling  he  has  not,  but  he  has  forces 
that  manifest  themselves  where  they  are  because  their 
being  consists  solely  in  their  manifestation,  and  are  as 
little  able  to  abide  inactive  as  life,  which,  if  it  "stood 
still"  only  a  second,  would  no  longer  be  life.  Now,  one 
might  call  out  to  the  man,  "use  your  force."  Yet  to  this 
imperative  would  be  j^iven  the  meaning  that  it  was 
man's  task  to  use  his  force.  It  is  not  so.  Rather,  each  \ 
one  reallv  uses  his  force  without  first  looking  upon  this 
as  his  calling:  at  all  times  every  one  uses  as  much  force 


THE  OWNER 


345 


as  he  possesses.  One  does  say  of  a  beaten  man  that  he 
ought  to  have  exerted  his  force  more;  but  one  forgets 
that,  if  in  the  moment  of  succumbing  he  had  had  the 
force  to  exert  his  forces  {e.  g.  bodily  forces),  he  would 
not  have  failed  to  do  it :  even  if  it  was  only  the  discourage- 
ment of  a  minute,  this  was  yet  a — destitution  of  force 
a  minute  long.  Forces  may  assuredly  be  sharpened 
and  redoubled,  especially  by  hostile  resistance  or  friendly 
assistance ;  but  where  one  misses  their  application  one 
may  be  sure  of  their  absence  too.  One  can  strike  fire 
out  of  a  stone,  but  without  the  blow  none  comes  out; 
in  like  manner  a  man  too  needs  ''impact." 

Now,  for  this  reason  that  forces  always  of  themselves 
show  themselves  operative,  the  command  to  use  them 
would  be  superfluous  and  senseless.  To  use  his  forces 
is  not  man's  calling  and  task,  but  is  his  act,  real  and  ex- 
tant at  all  times.  Force  is  only  a  simpler  word  for  mani- 
festations of  force. 

Now,  as  this  rose  is  a  true  rose  to  begin  with,  this 
nightingale  always  a  true  nightingale,  so  I  am  not  for 
the  first  time  a  true  man  when  I  fulfil  my  calling,  live 
up  to  my  destiny,  but  I  am  a  "true  man"  from  the  start. 
My  first  babble  is  the  token  of  the  life  of  a  ''true  man," 
the  struggles  of  my  life  are  the  outpourings  of  his  force, 
my  last  breath  is  the  last  exhalation  of  the  force  of  the 
"man." 

The  true  man  does  not  lie  in  the  future,  an  object 
of  longing,  but  lies,  existent  and  real,  in  the  present. 
Whatever  and  whoever  I  may  be,  joyous  and  suffering, 
a  child  or  a  graybeard,  in  confidence  or  doubt,  in  sleep 
or  in  waking,  I  am  it,  I  am  the  true  man. 

But,  if  I  am  Man,  and  have  really  found  in  myself 
him  whom  religious  humanity  designated  as  the  distant 
goal,  then  everything  "truly  human"  is  also  my  own. 
What  was  ascribed  to  the  idea  of  humanity  belongs  to 
me.  That  freedom  of  trade,  e.  g.,  which  humanity  has 
yet  to  attain — and  which,  like  an  enchanting  dream, 
people  remove  to  humanity's  golden  future — I  take  by 
anticipation  as  my  property,  and  carry  it  on  for  the  time 


346 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


in  the  form  of  smuggling.  There  may  indeed  be  out  few 
smugglers  who  have  sufficient  understanding  to  thus  ac- 
count to  themselves  for  their  doings,  but  the  instinct  of 
egoism  replaces  their  consciousness.  Above  I  have  shown 
the  same  thing  about  freedom  of  the  press. 

Everything  is  my  own,  therefore  I  bring  back  to  my- 
self what  wants  to  withdraw  from  me;  but  above  all  I 
always  bring  myself  back  when  I  have  slipped  away  from 
myself  to  any  tributariness.  But  this  too  is  not  my  call- 
ing, but  my  natural  act. 

Enough,  there  is  a  mighty  difference  whether  I  make 
myself  the  starting-point  or  the  goal.  As  the  latter  I 
do  not  have  myself,  am  consequently  still  alien  to  my- 
self, am  my  essence,  my  ''true  essence,''  and  this  ''true 
essence,''  alien  to  me,  will  mock  me  as  a  spook  of  a  thou- 
sand different  names.  Because  I  am  not  yet  I,  another 
(like  God,  the  true  man,  the  truly  pious  man,  the  rational 
man,  the  freeman,  etc.)  is  I,  my  ego. 

Still  far  from  myself,  I  separate  myself  into  two  halves, 
of  which  one,  the  one  unattained  and  to  be  fulfilled,  is 
the  true  one.  The  one,  the  untrue,  must  be  brought  as 
a  sacrifice;  to  wit,  the  unspiritual  one.  The  other,  the 
true,  is  to  be  the  whole  man ;  to  wit,  the  spirit.  Then'  it 
is  said,  "The  spirit  is  man's  proper  essence,"  or,  "man 
exists  as  man  only  spiritually."  Now  there  is  a  greedy 
rush  to  catch  the  spirit,  as  if  one  would  then  have  bagged 
himself;  and  so,  in  chasing  after  himself,  one  loses  sight 
of  himself,  whom  he  is. 

And,  as  one  stormily  pursues  his  own  self,  the  never- 
ittained,  so  one  also  despises  shrewd  people's  rule  to  take 
men  as  they  are,  and  prefers  to  take  them  as  they  should 
be :  and,  for  this  reason,  hounds  every  one  on  after  his 
should-be  self  and  "endeavors  to  make  all  into  equallv  en- 
titled respectable,  equallv  moral  or  rational  man."* 

Yes,  "if  men  were  what  thev  should  be.  could  be.  if 
all  men  were  rational.  loved  each  other  as  brothers,^' 
then  it  would  be  a  paradisiacal  life.t  All  right,  men  are 
as  they  should  be,  can  be.  What  should  they  be?  Surely 

*  "Der  Kommunismus  in  der  Schweiz''  p.  24.    f  Ihid.  p.  63. 


THE  OWNER 


347 


not  more  than  they  can  be !  And  what  can  they  be  ?  Not 
more,  again,  than  they — can,  i.  e.  than  they  have  the  com- 
petence, the  force,  to  be.  But  this  they  really  are,  be- 
cause what  they  are  not  they  are  incapable  of  being;  for 
to  be  capable  means — really  to  be.  One  is  not  capable  for 
anything  that  one  really  is  not;  one  is  not  capable  of 
anything  that  one  does  not  really  do.  Could  a  man  blinded 
by  cataract  see?  Oh,  yes,  if  he  had  his  cataract  success- 
fully removed.  But  now  he  cannot  see  because  he  does 
not  see.  Possibility  and  reality  always  coincide.  One 
can  do  nothing  that  one  does  not,  as  one  does  nothing  that 
one  cannot. 

The  singularity  of  this  assertion  vanishes  when  one 
reflects  that  the  words  ''it  is  possible  that  .  .  almost 
never  contain  another  meaning  than  'T  can  imagine 
that  .  .  e,  g.,  It  is  possible  for  all  men  to  live  ration- 
ally, i.  e.  I  can  imagine  that  all,  etc.  Now — since  my 
thinking  cannot,  and  accordingly  does  not,  cause  all  men 
to  live  rationally,  but  this  must  still  be  left  to  the  men 
themselves — general  reason  is  for  me  one  thinkable,  a 
thinkableness,  but  as  such  in  fact  a  reality  that  is  called 
a  possibility  only  in  reference  to  what  I  can  not  bring 
to  pass,  to  wit,  the  rationality  of  others.  So  far  as  de- 
pends on  you,  all  men  might  be  rational,  for  you  have 
nothing  against  it ;  nay,  so  far  as  your  thinking  reaches, 
you  perhaps  cannot  discover  any  hindrance  either,  and 
accordingly  nothing  does  stand  in  the  way  of  the  thing 
in  your  thinking ;  it  is  thinkable  to  you. 

As  men  are  not  all  rational,  though,  it  is  probable  that 
they — cannot  be  so. 

If  something  which  one  imagines  to  be  easily  possible 
is  not,  or  does  not  happen,  then  one  may  be  assured  that 
something  stands  in  the  way  of  the  thing,  and  that  it  is — 
impossible.  Our  time  has  its  art,  science,  etc. ;  the  art 
may  be  bad  in  all  conscience ;  but  may  one  say  that  we  de- 
served to  have  a  better,  and  ''could"  have  it  if  we  only 
would?  We  have  just  as  much  art  as  we  can  have.  Our 
art  of  to-day  is  the  only  art  possible,  and  therefore  real, 
at  the  time. 


348 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


Even  in  the  sense  to  which  one  might  at  last  still  re- 
duce the  word  ''possible/'  that  it  should  mean  ''future/' 
it  retains  the  full  force  of  the  "real/'  If  one  says,  e,  g,, 
"It  is  possible  that  the  sun  will  rise  to-morrow" — ^this 
means  only,  "for  to-day  to-morrow  is  the  real  future"; 
for  I  suppose  there  is  hardly  need  of  the  suggestion  that 
a  future  is  real  "future"  only  when  it  has  not  yet  ap- 
peared. 

Yet  wherefore  this  dignifying  of  a  word?  If  the  most 
prolific  misunderstanding  of  thousands  of  years  were 
not  in  ambush  behind  it,  if  this  single  concept  of  the 
little  word  "possible"  were  not  haunted  by  all  the  spooks 
of  possessed  men,  its  contemplation  should  trouble  us 
little  here. 

The  thought,  it  was  just  now  shown,  rules  the  pos- 
sessed world.  Well,  then,  possibility  is  nothing  but  think- 
ableness,  and  innumerable  sacrifices  have  hitherto  been 
made  to  hideous  thinkableness.  It  was  thinkable  that 
men  might  become  rational;  thinkable,  that  they  might 
know  Christ;  thinkable,  that  they  might  become  moral 
and  enthusiastic  for  the  good ;  thinkable,  that  they  might 
all  take  refuge  in  the  Church's  lap;  thinkable,  that  they 
might  meditate,  speak,  and  do,  nothing  dangerous  to  the 
State;  thinkable,  that  they  might  be  obedient  subjects; 
but,  because  it  was  thinkable,  it  was — so  ran  the  infer- 
ence— possible,  and  further,  because  it  was  possible  to 
men  (right  here  lies  the  deceptive  point:  because  it  is 
thinkable  to  me,  it  is  possible  to  men),  therefore  they 
ought  to  be  so,  it  was  their  calling;  and  finally — one  is  to 
take  men  only  according  to  this  calling,  only  as  called 
men,  "not  as  they  are,  but  as  they  ought  to  be." 

And  the  further  inference  ?  Man  is  not  the  individual, 
but  man  is  a  thought,  an  ideal,  to  which  the  individual 
is  related  not  even  as  the  child  to  the  man,  but  as  a  chalk 
point  to  a  point  thought  of,  or  as  a — finite  creature  to  the 
eternal  Creator,  or,  according  to  modern  views,  as  the 
specimen  to  the  species.  Here  then  comes  to  light  the 
glorification  of  "humanity/'  the  "eternal,  immortal,"  for 
whose  glory  (in  majorem  humanitatis  gloriam)  the  in- 


THE  OWNER 


349 


dividual  must  devote  himself  and  find  his  "immortal 
renown"  in  having  done  something  for  the  "spirit  of  hu- 
manity." 

Thus  the  thinkers  rule  in  the  world  as  long  as  the 
age  of  priest  or  of  schoolmasters  lasts,  and  what  they 
think  of  is  possible,  but  what  is  possible  must  be  real- 
ized. They  think  an  ideal  of  man,  which  for  the  time 
IS  real  only  in  their  thoughts;  but  they  also  think  the 
possibility  of  carrying  it  out,  and  there  is  no  chance  for 
dispute,  the  carrying  out  is  really — thinkable,  it  is  an 
— idea. 

But  you  and  I,  we  may  indeed  be  people  of  whom  a 
Krummacher  can  think  that  we  might  yet  become  good 
Christians;  if,  however^  he  wanted  to  "labor  with"  us, 
we  should  soon  make  it  palpable  to  him  that  our  Chris- 
tianity is  only  thinkable,  but  in  other  respects  impossible ; 
if  he  grinned  on  an  on  at  us  with  his  obstrusive  thoughts, 
his  "good  belief,"  he  would  have  to  learn  that  we  do 
not  at  all  need  to  become  what  we  do  not  Hke  to  become. 

And  so  it  goes  on,  far  beyond  the  most  pious  of  the 
pious.  "If  all  men  were  rational,  if  all  did  right,  if  all 
were  guided  by  philanthropy,  etc." !  Reason,  right, 
philanthropy,  etc.,  are  put  before  the  eyes  of  men  as  their 
calling,  as  the  goal  of  their  aspiration.  And  what  does 
being  rational  mean?  Giving  oneself  a  hearing?*  No, 
reason  is  a  book  full  of  laws,  which  are  all  enacted 
against  egoism. 

History  hitherto  is  the  history  of  the  intellectual  man. 
After  the  period  of  sensuality,  history  proper  begins; 
i.  e.y  the  period  of  intellectuality,t  spirituality,:!:  non- 
sensuality  supersensuality  nonsensicality.  Man  now 
begins  to  want  to  be  and  become  something.  What? 
Good,  beautiful,  true ;  more  precisely,  moral,  pious,  agree- 
able, etc.  He  wants  to  make  of  himself  a  "proper  man," 
"something  proper."  Man  is  his  goal,  his  ought,  his 
destiny,  calling,  task,  his — ideal;  he  is  to  himself  a  fu- 
ture, otherworldly  he.  And  what  makes  a  "proper  fellow"' 
of  him?    Being  true,  being  good,  being  moral,  and  the 

*  [Cf.  note  p.  81.]        t  [Geistigkeit]  t  [Geistlichkeit] 


350  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


like.    Now  he  looks  askance  at  every  one  who  does  not 
recognize  the  same  ''what/'  seek  the  same  moraHty,  have  j 
the  same  faith;  he  chases  out  ''separatists,  heretics,  | 
sects/'  etc.  j 

No  sheep,  no  dog,  exerts  itself  to  become  a  "proper  1 1 
sheep,  a  proper  dog" ;  no  beast  has  its  essence  appear  to  | ' 
it  as  a  task,  i,  e,  as  a  concept  that  it  has  to  reaHze.  It  ( 
reaHzes  itself  in  living  itself  out,  i.  e,  dissolving  itself,  |  j 
passing  away.  It  does  not  ask  to  be  or  to  become  any-  j 
thing  other  than  it  is.  , 

Do  I  mean  to  advise  you  to  be  like  the  beasts  ?  That  1 1 
you  ought  to  become  beasts  is  an  exhortation  which  I  I, 
certainly  cannot  give  you,  as  that  would  again  be  a  task,  ( 
an  ideal  ("How  doth  the  little  busy  bee  improve  each  I, 
shinning  hour  ...  In  works  of  labor  or  of  skill  I  , 
would  be  busy  too,  for  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still  , 
for  idle  hands  to  do").  It  would  be  the  same,  too,  as  ! 
if  one  wished  for  the  beasts  that  they  should  become  hu-  | , 
man  beings.  Your  nature  is,  once  for  all,  a  human  one ;  j 
you  are  human  natures,  i,  e.  human  beings.  But,  just  | , 
because  you  already  are  so,  you  do  not  still  need  to  be-  | , 
come  so.  Beasts  too  are  "trained,"  and  a  trained  beast  , 
executes  many  unnatural  things.  But  a  trained  dog  is  no  j 
better  for  itself  than  a  natural  one,  and  has  no  profit  j 
from  it,  even  if  it  is  more  companionable  f of  us.  , , 

Exertions  to  "form"  all  men  into  moral,  rational,  pious,  ij 
human,  etc.,  "beings"  (i.  e,  training)  were  in  vogue  from  j| 
of  yore.  They  are  wrecked  against  the  indomitable  qual-  \  | 
ity  of  I,  against  own  nature,  against  egoism.  Those  who  I , 
are  trained  never  attain  their  ideal,  and  only  profess  with  i  j 
their  mouth  the  sublime  principles,  or  make  a  profession,  , 
a  profession  of  faith.  In  face  of  this  profession  they  j 
must  in  life  "acknowledge  themselves  sinners  altogether,"  i  j 
and  they  fall  short  of  their  ideal,  are  "weak  men,"  and  , , 
bear  with  them  the  consciousness  of  "human  weakness."  | 

It  is  different  if  you  do  not  chase  after  an  ideal  as  \  \ 
your  "destiny/'  but  dissolve  yourself  as  time  dissolves  , 
everything.  The  dissolution  is  not  your  "destiny,"  be-  , 
cause  it  is  present  time. 


THE  OWNER 


351 


Yet  the  culture,  the  reHgiousness,  of  men  has  assuredly 
made  them  free,  but  only  free  from  one  lord,  to  lead 
them  to  another.  I  have  learned  by  religion  to  tame  my 
appetite,  I  break  the  world's  resistance  by  the  cunning 
that  is  put  in  my  hand  by  science;  I  even  serve  no  man; 
''I  am  no  man's  lackey."  But  then  it  comes,  You  must 
obey  God  more  than  man.  Just  so  I  am  indeed  free 
from  irrational  determination  by  my  impulses,  but  obed- 
ient to  the  master  Reason.  I  have  gained  ''spiritual  free- 
dom," "freedom  of  the  spirit."  But  with  that  I  have 
then  become  subject  to  that  very  spirit.  The  spirit  gives 
me  orders,  reason  guides  me,  they  are  my  leaders  and 
commanders.  The  ''rational,"  the  "servants  of  the  spirit," 
rule.  But,  if  I  am.  not  flesh,  I  am  in  truth  not  spirit 
either.  Freedom  of  the  spirit  is  servitude  of  me,  be- 
cause I  am  more  than  spirit  or  flesh. 

Without  doubt  culture  has  made  me  powerful.  It  has 
given  me  power  over  all  motives,  over  the  impulses  of  my 
nature  as  well  as  over  the  exactions  and  violences  of  the 
world.  I  know,  and  have  gained  the  force  for  it  by 
culture,  that  I  need  not  let  myself  be  coerced  by  any 
appetites,  pleasures,  emotions,  etc.;  I  am  their — master; 
in  like  manner  I  become,  through  the  sciences  and  arts, 
the  master  of  the  refractory  world,  whom  sea  and  earth 
obey,  and  to  whom  even  the  stars  must  give  an  account  of 
themselves.  The  spirit  has  made  me  master. — But  I 
have  no  power  over  the  spirit  itself.  From  religion  (cul- 
ture) I  do  learn  the  means  for  the  "vanquishing  of  the 
world,"  but  not  how  I  am  to  subdue  God  too  and  become 
master  of  him ;  for  God  "is  the  spirit."  And  this  same 
spirit,  of  which  I  am  unable  to  become  master,  may  have 
the  most  manifold  shapes :  he  may  be  called  God  or  Na- 
tional Spirit,  State,  Family,  Reason,  also — Liberty,  Hu- 
manity, Man. 

I  receive  with  thanks  what  the  centuries  of  culture 
have  acquired  for  me  ;  I  am  not  willing  to  throw  away  and 
give  up  anything  of  it:  I  have  not  lived  in  vain.  The 
experience  that  I  have  po7ver  over  my  nature,  and  need 
not  be  the  slave  of  my  appetites,  shall  not  be  lost  to  me ; 


352 


THE  EGO'  AND  HIS  OWN 


the  experience  that  I  can  subdue  the  world  by  culture's 
means  is  too  dear-bought  for  me  to  be  able  to  forget  it. 
But  I  want  still  more. 

People  ask,  what  can  man  do?  what  can  he  accom- 
plish? what  goods  procure?  and  put  down  the  highest 
of  everything  as  a  calling.  As  if  everything  were  possible 
to  me! 

Ii  one  sees  somebody  going  to  ruin  in  a  mania,  a 
passion,  etc.  (e,  g.  in  the  huckster-spirit,  in  jealousy),  the 
desire  is  stirred  to  deliver  him  out  of  this  possession  and 
to  help  him  to  ''self-conquest.''  'We  want  to  make  a 
man  of  him!"  That  would  be  very  fine  if  another 
possession  were  not  immediately  put  in  the  place  of  the 
earlier  one.  But  one  frees  from  the  love  of  money  him 
who  is  a  thrall  to  it,  only  to  deliver  him  over  to  piety, 
humanity,  or  some  principle  else,  and  to  transfer  him 
to  a  fixed  standpoint  anew. 

This  transference  from  a  narrow  standpoint  to  a  su- 
blime one  is  declared  in  the  words  that  the  sense  must 
not  be  directed  to  the  perishable,  but  to  the  imperishable 
alone:  not  to  the  temporal,  but  to  the  eternal,  absolute, 
divine,  purely  human,  etc., — to  the  spiritual. 

People  very  soon  discerned  that  it  was  not  indifferent 
what  one  set  his  affections  on,  or  what  one  occupied  him- 
self with;  they  recognized  the  importance  of  the  ob- 
ject. An  object  exalted  above  the  individuality  of  things 
is  the  essence  of  things ;  yes,  the  essence  is  alone  the 
thinkable  in  them,  it  is  for  the  thinking  man.  Therefore 
direct  no  longer  your  sense  to  the  things,  but  your  thoughts  \ 
to  the  essence.  "Blessed  are  they  who  set  not,  and  yet 
believe" ;  i.  e.  blessed  are  the  thinkers,  for  they  have  to 
do  with  the  invisible  and  believe  in  it.  Yet  even  an  object 
of  thought,  that  constituted  an  essential  point  of  conten-l 
tion  centuries  long,  comes  at  last  to  the  point  of  being 
**no  longer  worth  speaking  of."  This  was  discerned, 
but  nevertheless  people  always  kept  before  their  eyes 
again  a  self-valid  importance  of  the  object,  an  absolute 
value  of  it,  as  if  the  doll  were  not  the  most  important 
thing  to  the  child^  the  Koran  to  the  Turk.   As  long  as  Ij 


THE  OWNER 


353 


am  not  the  sole  important  thing  to  myself,  it  is  indifferent 
of  what  object  I  ''make  much,"  and  only  my  greater  or 
lesser  delinquency  against  it  is  of  value.  The  degree  of 
my  attachment  and  devotion  marks  the  standpoint  of  my 
liability  to  service,  the  degree  of  my  sinning  shows  the 
measure  of  my  ownness. 

But  finally,  and  in  general,  one  must  know  how  to  ''put 
everything  out  of  his  mind,"  if  only  so  as  to  be  able  to 
— go  to  sleep.  Nothing  may  occupy  us  with  which  we 
do  not  occupy  ourselves :  the  victim  of  ambition  cannot 
run  away  from  his  ambitious  plans,  nor  the  God-fearing 
man  from  the  thought  of  God ;  infatuation  and  possessed- 
ness  coincide. 

To  want  to  realize  his  essence  or  live  conformably  to 
his  concept  (which  with  believers  in  God  signifies  as 
much  as  to  be  "pious,"  and  with  believers  in  humanity 
means  living  "humanly")  is  what  only  the  sensual  and 
sinful  man  can  propose  to  himself,  the  man  so  long  as 
he  has  the  anxious  choice  between  happiness  of  sense  and 
peace  of  soul,  so  long  as  he  is  a  "poor  sinner."  The 
Christian  is  nothing  but  a  sensual  man  who.  knowing  of 
the  sacred  and  being  conscious  that  he  violates  it,  sees 
in  himself  a  poor  sinner :  sensualness,  recognized  as  "sin- 
fulness," is  Christian  consciousness,  is  the  Christian  him- 
self. And  if  "sin"  and  "sinfulness"  are  now  no  longer 
taken  into  the  mouths  of  moderns,  but,  instead  of  that, 
"egoism,"  "self-seeking,"  "selfishness,"  and  the  like,  en- 
gage them ;  if  the  devil  has  been  translated  into  the  "un- 
man" or  "egoistic  man," — is  the  Christian  less  present 
then  than  before?  Is  not  the  old  discord  between  good 
and  evil, — is  not  a  judge  over  us,  man —  is  not  a  calling, 
the  calling  to  make  oneself  man — left?  If  they  no  longer 
name  -it  calling,  but  '*task"  or,  very  likely,  "duty,"  the 
change  of  name  is  quite  correct,  because  "man"  is  not, 
like  God,  a  personal  being  that  can  "call" ;  but  outside 
the  name  the  thing  remains  as  of  old. 

Every  one  has  a  relation  to  objects,  and  more,  every 
one  is  differently  related  to  them.    Let  us  choose  as  an 


354  THE  EGOi  AND  HIS  OWN 


example  that  book  to  which  millions  of  men  had  a  rela- 
tion for  two  thousand  years,  the  Bible.  What  is  it,  what 
was  it,  to  each?  Absolutely,  only  what  he  made  out  of 
it!  For  him  who  makes  to  himself  nothing  at  all  out  of 
it,  it  is  nothing  at  all ;  for  him  who  uses  it  as  an  amulet, 
it  has  solely  the  value,  the  significance,  of  a  means  of 
sorcery ;  for  him  who,  like  children,  plays  with  it,  it  is 
nothing  but  a  plaything;  etc. 

Now,  Christianity  asks  that  it  shall  be  the  same  for  all' 
say,  the  sacred  book  or  the  ''sacred  Scriptures."  This 
means  as  much  as  that  the  Christian's  view  shall  also 
be  that  of  other  men,  and  that  no  one  may  be  otherwise 
related  to  that  object.  And  with  this  the  ownness  of  the 
relation  is  destroyed,  and  one  mind,  one  disposition,  is 
fixed  as  the  ''true/'  the  ''only  true"  one.  In  the  limitation 
of  the  freedom  to  make  of  the  Bible  what  I  will,  the 
freedom  of  making  in  general  is  limited;  and  the  coercion 
of  a  view  or  a  judgment  is  put  in  its  place.  He  who 
should  pass  the  judgment  that  the  Bible  was  a  long  error 
of  mankind  would  judge — criminally. 

In  fact  the  child  who  tears  it  to  pieces  or  plays  with 
it,  the  Inca  Atahualpa  who  lays  his  ear  to  it  and  throws  it 
away  contemptuously  when  it  remains  dumb,  judges  just 
as  correctly  about  the  Bible  as  the  priest  who  praises  in 
it  the  "Word  of  God,"  or  the  critic  who  calls  it  a  job  of 
men's  hands.  For  how  we  toss  things  about  is  the  affair 
of  our  option,  our  free  will-'  we  use  them  according  to  our 
heart's  pleasure,  or,  more  clerxly,  we  use  them  just  as 
we  can.  Why,  what  do  the  parsons  scream  about  when 
they  see  how  Hegel  and  the  speculative  theologians  make 
speculative  thoughts  out  of  the  contents  of  the  Bible? 
Precisely  this,  that  they  deal  with  it  according  to  their 
heart's  pleasure,  or  "proceed  arbitrarily  with  it." 

But,  because  we  all  show  ourselves  arbitrary  in  the 
handling  of  objects,  i.  e.  do  with  them  as  we  like  best,  at 
our  liking  (the  philosopher  likes  nothing  so  well  as  when 
he  can  trace  out  an  "idea"  in  everything,  as  the  God- 
fearing man  likes  to  make  God  his  friend  by  everything, 
and  so,  e,  g.  by  keeping  the  Bible  sacred),  therefore  we 


THE  OWNER 


355 


nowhere  meet  such  grievous  arbitrariness,  sucn  a  fright- 
ful tendency  to  violence,  such  stupid  coercion,  as  in  this 
very  domain  of  our — own  free  will.  If  we  proceed 
arbitrarily  in  taking  the  sacred  objects  thus  or  so,  how 
is  it  then  that  we  want  to  take  it  ill  of  the  parson-spirits 
if  they  take  us  just  as  arbitrarily  in  their  fashion,  and 
esteem  us  worthy  of  the  heretic's  fire  or  of  another  pun- 
ishment, perhaps  of  the — censorship? 

What  a  man  is,  he  makes  out  of  things ;  *'as  you  look 
at  the  world,  so  it  looks  at  you  again."  Then  the  wise 
advice  makes  itself  heard  again  at  once,  You  must  only 
look  at  it  ''rightly,  unbiasedly,''  etc.  As  if  the  child  did 
not  look  at  the  Bible  ''rightly  and  unbiasedly"  when  it 
makes  it  a  plaything.  That  shrewd  precept  is  given  us, 
e.  g,  by  Feuerbach.  One  does  look  at  things  rightly  when 
one  makes  of  them  what  one  will  (by  things  objects  in 
general  are  here  understood,  such  as  God,  our  fellow- 
men,  a  sweetheart,  a  book,  a  beast,  etc.).  And  therefore 
the  things  and  the  looking  at  them  are  not  first,  but  I 
am,  my  will  is.  One  will  bring  thoughts  out  of  the  things, 
will  discover  reason  in  the  world,  will  have  sacredness  in 
it:  therefore  one  shall  find  them.  *'Seek  and  ye  shall 
find.''  What  I  will  seek,  /  determine:  I  want,  e,  g,,  to 
get  edification  from  the  Bible ;  it  is  to  be  found ;  I  want 
to  read  and  test  the  Bible  thoroughly;  my  outcome  will 
be  a  thorough  instruction  and  criticism — to  the  extent 
of  my  powers.  I  elect  for  myself  what  I  have  a  fancy 
for,  and  in  electing  I  show  myself — arbitrary. 

Connected  with  this  is  the  discernment  that  every  judg- 
ment which  I  pass  upon  an  object  is  the  creature  of  my 
will;  and  that  discernment  again  leads  me  to  not  losing 
myself  in  the  creature,  the  judgment,  but  remaining  the 
creator,  the  judger,  who  is  ever  creating  anew.  All  pre- 
dicates of  objects  are  my  statements,  my  judgments,  my 
— creatures.  If  they  want  to  tear  themselves  loose  from 
me  and  be  something  for  themselves,  or  actually  overawe 
me,  then  I  have  nothing  more  pressing  to  do  than  to  take 
them  back  into  their  nothing,  i.  e.  into  me  the  creator. 
God,  Christ,  trinity,  morality,  the  good,  etc.,  are  such 


356  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


creatures,  of  which  I  must  not  merely  allow  myself  to 
say  that  they  are  truths,  but  also  that  they  are  deceptions. 
As  I  once  willed  and  decreed  their  existence,  so  I  want  to 
have  license  to  will  their  non-existence  too;  I  must  not 
let  them  grow  over  my  head,  must  not  have  the  weak- 
ness to  let  them  become  something  ''absolute,"  whereby 
they  would  be  eternalized  and  withdrawn  from  my  power 
and  decision.  With  that  I  should  fall  a  prey  to  the  prin- 
ciple of  stability,  the  proper  life-principle  of  religion, 
which*  concerns  itself  with  creating  '^sanctuaries  that  must 
not  be  touched,"  "eternal  truths," — in  short,  that  which 
shall  be  ''sacred" — and  depriving  you  of  what  is  yours. 

The  object  makes  us  into  possessed  men  in  its  sacred 
form  just  as  in  its  profane;  as  a  supersensuous  object, 
just  as  it  does  as  a  sensuous  one.  The  appetite  or  mania 
refers  to  both,  and  avarice  and  longing  for  heaven  stand 
on  a  level.  When  the  rationalists  wanted  to  win  people 
for  the  sensuous  world,  Lavater  preached  the  longing 
for  the  invisible.  The  one  party  wanted  to  call  forth 
emotion,  the  other  motion,  activity. 

The  conception  of,  objects  is  altogether  diverse,  even 
as  God,  Christ,  the  world,  etc.,  were  and  are  conceived  of 
in  the  most  manifold  wise.  In  this  every  one  is  a  "dis- 
senter," and  after  bloody  combats  so  much  has  at  last 
been  attained,  that  opposite  views  about  one  and  the 
same  object  are  no  longer  condemned  as  heresies  worthy 
of  death.  The  "dissenters"  reconcile  themselves  to  each 
other.  But  why  should  I  only  dissent  (think  other- 
wise) about  a  thing?  why  not  push  the  thinking  other- 
wise to  its  la&t  extremity,  vi^,,  that  of  no  longer  having 
any  regard  at  all  for  the  thing,  and  therefore  thinking 
its  nothingness,  crushing  it?  Then  the  conception  itself 
has  an  end,  because  there  is  no  longer  anything  to  con- 
ceive of.  Why  am  I  to  say,  let  us  suppose,  "God  is  not 
Allah,  not  Brahma,  not  Jehovah,  but — ^God";  but  not, 
"God  is  nothing  but  a  deception"?  Why  do  people  brand 
me  if  I  am  an  "atheist"  ?  Because  they  put  the  creature 
above  the  creator  ("They  honor  and  serve  the  creature 


THE  OWNER 


357 


more  than  the  Creator''*)  and  require  a  ruling  object, 
that  the  subject  may  be  right  submissive,  I  am  to  bend 
beneath  the  absolute,  I  ought  to. 

By  the  ''realm  of  thoughts"  Christianity  has  completed 
itself ;  the  thought  is  that  inwardness  in  which  all  the 
world's  lights  go  out,  all  existence  becomes  existenceless, 
the  inward  man  (the  heart,  the  head)  is  all  in  all.  This 
realm  of  thoughts  awaits  its  deliverance,  awaits,  like  the 
Sphinx,  CEdipus's  key-word  to  the  riddle,  that  it  may 
enter  in  at  last  to  its  death.  I  am  the  annihilator  of  its 
continuance,  for  in  the  creator's  realm  it  no  longer  forms 
a  realm  of  its  own,  not  a  State  in  the  State,  but  a  creature 
of  my  creative — thoughtlessness.  Only  together  and  at 
the  same  time  with  the  benumbed  thinking  world  can  the 
world  of  Christians,  Christianity  and  religion  itself,  come 
to  its  downfall;  only  when  thoughts  run  out  are  there 
no  more  believers.  To  the  thinker  his  thinking  is  a  ''su- 
blime labor,  a  sacred  activity,"  and  it  rests  on  a  firm 
faith,  the  faith  in  truth.  At  first  praying  is  a  sacred 
activity,  then  this  sacred  "devotion"  passes  over  into  a 
rational  and  reasoning  ''thinking,"  which,  however,  like- 
wise retains  in  the  "sacred  truth"  its  underangeable  basis 
of  faith,  and  is  only  a  marvelous  machine  that  the  spirit 
of  truth  winds  up  for  its  service.  Free  thinking  and  free 
science  busy  me — for  it  is  not  I  that  am  free,  not  /  that 
busy  myself,  but  thinking  is  free  and  busies  me — ^with 
heaven  and  the  heavenly  or  "divine";  that  is,  properly, 
with  the  world  and  the  worldly,  not  this  world  but  "an 
other"  world ;  it  is  only  the  reversing  and  deranging  of 
the  world,  a  busying  with  the  essence  of  the  world,  there- 
fore a  derangement.  The  thinker  is  blind  to  the  im- 
rnediateness  of  things,  and  incapable  of  mastering  them: 
he  does  not  eat,  does  not  drink,  does  not  enjoy;  for  the 
eater  and  drinker  is  never  the  thinker,  nay,  the  latter 
forgets  eating  and  drinking,  his  getting  on  in  life,  the 
cares  of  nourishment,  etc.,  over  his  thinking;  he  forgets 
it  as  the  praying  man  too  forgets  it.  This  is  why  he  ap- 
pears  to  the  forceful  son  of  nature  as  a  queer  Dick,  a 

*  Rom.  1,  25. 


358 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


fool — even  if  he  does  look  upon  him  as  holy,  just  as 
lunatics  appeared  so  to  the  ancients.  Free  thinking  is 
lunacy,  because  it  is  pure  movement  of  the  inwardness, 
of  the  merely  inward  man,  which  guides  and  regulates 
the  rest  of  the  man.  The  shaman  and  the  speculative 
philosopher  mark  the  bottom  and  top  rounds  on  the  lad- 
der of  the  inward  man,  the — Mongol.  Shaman  and  philos- 
opher fight  with  ghosts,  demons,  spirits,  gods. 

Totally  different  from  this  free  thinking  is  own  think- 
ing, my  thinking,  a  thinking  which  does  not  guide  me, 
but  is  guided,  continued,  or  broken  off,  by  me  at  my 
pleasure.  The  distinction  of  this  own  thinking  from  free 
thinking  is  similar  to  that  of  own  sensuality,  which  I 
satisfy  at  pleasure,  from  free,  unruly  sensuality  to  which 
I  succomb. 

Feuerbach,  in  the  "Principles  of  the  Philosophy  of 
the  Future,"  is  always  harping  upon  being.  In  this  he 
too,  with  all  his  antagonism  to  Hfegel  and  the  absolute 
philosophy,  is  stuck  fast  in  abstraction ;  for  ''being"  is 
abstraction,  as  is  even  "the  I."  Only  /  am  not  abstrac- 
tion alone :  /  am  all*  in  all,  consequently  even  abstraction 
or  nothing;  I  am  all  and  nothing:  I  am  not  a  mere 
thought,  but  at  the  same  time  I  am  full  of  thoughts,  a 
thought-world.  Hegel  condemns  the  own,  mine* — "opin- 
ion."f  "Absolute  thinking"  is  that  thinking  which  for- 
gets that  it  is  my  thinking,  that  /  think,  and  that  it  exists 
only  through  me.  But  I,  as  I,  swallow  up  again  what 
is  mine,  am  its  master;  it  is  only  my  opinion,  which  I 
can  at  any  moment  change,  i.  e.  annihilate,  take  back 
into  myself,  and  consume.  Feuerbach  wants  to  smite 
Hegel's  "absolute  thinking"  with  unconquered  being.  But 
in  me  being  is  as  much  conquered  as  thinking  is.  It 
is  my  being,  as  the  other  is  my  thinking. 

With  this,  of  course,  Feuerbach  does  not  get  further 
than  to  the  proof,  trivial  in  itself,  that  I  require  the 
senses  for  everything,  or  that  I  cannot  entirely  do  with- 
out these  organs.    Certainly  I  cannot  think  if  I  do  not 


*  [das  Meinige]  f  [die— "Meinung''] 


THE  OWNER 


359 


exist  sensuously.  But  for  thinking  as  weli  as  for  feel- 
ing, and  so  for  the  abstract  as  well  as  for  the  sensuous, 
I  need  above  all  things  myself,  this  quite  particular  my- 
self, this  unique  myself.  If  I  were  not  this  one,  e.  g, 
Hegel,  I  should  not  look  at  the  world  as  I  do  look  at 
it,  I  should  not  pick  out  of  it  that  philosophical  system 
which  just  I  as  Hegel  do,  etc.  I  should  indeed  have 
senses,  as  do  other  people  too,  but  I  should  not  utilize 
them  as  I  do. 

Thus  the  reproach  is  brought  up  against  Hegel  by 
Feuerbach*  that  he  misuses  language,  understanding  by 
many  words  something  else  than  what  natural  conscious- 
ness takes  them  for ;  and  yet  he  too  commits  the  same 
fault  when  he  gives  the  ''sensuous''  a  sense  of  unusual 
eminence.  Thus,  it  is  said,  p.  69,  ''the  sensuous  is  not 
the  profane,  the  destitute  of  thought,  the  obvious,  that 
which  is  understood  of  itself.''  But,  if  it  is  the  sacred, 
the  full  of  thought,  the  recondite,  that  which  can  be 
understood  only  through  mediation — well,  then  it  is  no 
longer  what  people  call  the  sensuous.  The  sensuous 
is  only  that  which  exists  for  the  senses;  what,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  enjoyable  only  to  those  who  enjoy  with 
7nore  than  the  senses,  who  go  beyond  sense-enjoyment 
or  sense-reception,  is  at  most  mediated  or  introduced 
by  the  senses,  i.  e.  the  senses  constitute  a  condition  for 
obtaining  it,  but  it  is  no  longer  anything  sensuous.  The 
sensuous,  whatever  it  may  be,  when  taken  up  into  me 
becomes  something  non-sensuous,  which,  however,  m^ay 
again  have  sensuous  effects,  e.  g.  by  the  stirring  of  my 
emotions  and  my  blood. 

It  is  well  that  Feuerbach  brings  sensuousness  to  honor, 
but  the  only  thing  he  is  able  to  do  with  it  is  to  clothe 
the  materialism  of  his  "new  philosophy"  with  what  had 
hitherto  been  the  property  of  idealism,  the  "absolute  phil- 
osophy." As  little  as  people  let  it  be  talked  into  them 
that  one  can  live  on  the  "spiritual"  alone  without  bread, 
so  little  will  they  believe  his  word  that  as  a  sensuous 


*  P.  47  ff . 


360 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


being  one  is  already  everything,  and  so  spiritual,  full  of 
thoughts,  etc. 

Nothing  at  all  is  justified  by  being.  What  is  thought 
of  is  as  well  as  what  is  not  thought  of ;  the  stone  in  the 
street  is,  and  my  notion  of  it  is  too.  Both  are  only  in 
different  spaces,  the  former  in  airy  space,  the  latter  in 
my  head,  in  me;  for  I  am  space  like  the  street. 

The  professionals,  the  privileged,  brook  no  freedom 
of  thought,  i.  e.  no  thoughts  that  do  not  come  from  the 
''Giver  of  all  good,"  be  he  called  God,  pope,  church,  or 
whatever  else.  Ii  anybody  has  such  illegitimate  thoughts, 
he  must  whisper  them  into  his  confessor's  ear,  and  have 
himself  chastised  by  him  till  the  slave-whip  becomes 
unendurable  to  the  free  thoughts.  In  other  ways  too 
the  professional  spirit  takes  care  that  free  thoughts  shall 
not  come  at  all :  first  and  foremost,  by  a  wise  education. 
He  on  whom  the  principles  of  morality  have  been  duly 
inculcated  never  becomes  free  again  from  moralizing 
thoughts,  and  robbery,  perjury,  overreaching,  and  the 
like,  remain  to  him  fixed  ideas  against  which  no  free- 
dom of  thought  protects  him.  He  has  his  thouglits 
''from  above,"  and  gets  no  further. 

It  is  different  with  the  holders  of  concessions  or  pat- 
ents. Every  one  must  be  able  to  have  and  form  thoughts 
as  he  will.  If  he  has  the  patent,  or  the  concession,  of  a 
capacity  to  think,  he  needs  no  special  privilege.  But, 
as  "all  men  are  rational,"  it  is  free  to  every  one  to  put 
into  his  head  any  thoughts  whatever,  and,  to  the  extent 
of  the  patent  of  his  natural  endowment,  to  have  a  greater 
or  less  wealth  of  thoughts.  Now  one  hears  the  admoni- 
tions that  one  "is  to  honor  all  opinions  and  convictions," 
that  "every  conviction  is  authorized,"  that  one  must  be 
"tolerant  to  the  views  of  others,"  etc. 

But  "your  thoughts  are  not  my  thoughts,  and  your 
ways  are  not  my  ways."  Or  rather,  I  mean  the  reverse: 
"Your  thoughts  are  my  thoughts,  which  I  dispose  of  as 
I  will,  and  which  I  strike  down  unmercifully ;  they  are 
my  property,  which  I  annihilate  as  I  list.  I  do  not  wait 
for  authorization  from  you  first,  to  decompose  and  blow 


THE  OWNER 


361 


away  your  thoughts.  It  does  not  matter  to  me  that  you 
call  these  thoughts  yours  too,  they  remain  mine  never- 
theless, and  how  I  will  proceed  with  them  is  my  aifair, 
not  a  usurpation.  It  may  please  me  to  leave  you  in  your 
thoughts;  then  I  keep  still.  Do  you  believe  thoughts 
fly  around  free  like  birds,  so  that  every  one  may  get 
Himself  some  which  he  may  then  make  good  against  me 
as  his  inviolable  property?  What  is  flying  around  is 
all — mine. 

Do  you  believe  you  have  your  thoughts  for  your- 
selves and  need  answer  to  no  one  for  them,  or,  as  you 
do  also  say,  you  have  to  give  an  account  of  them  to  God 
only?  No,  your  great  and  small  thoughts  belong  to  me, 
and  I  handle  them  at  my  pleasure. 

The  thought  is  my  own  only  when  I  have  no  misgiv- 
ing about  bringing  it  in  danger  of  death  every  moment, 
when  I  do  not  have  to  fear  its  loss  as  a  loss  for  me,  a 
loss  to  me.  The  thought  is  my  own  only  when  I  can 
indeed  subjugate  it,  but  it  never  can  subjugate  me,  never 
fanaticizes  me,  makes  me  the  tool  of  its  realization. 

So  freedom  of  thought  exists  when  I  can  have  all  pos- 
sible thoughts ;  but  the  thoughts  become  property  only 
by  not  being  able  to  become  masters.  In  the  time  of 
freedom  of  thought,  thoughts  (ideas)  rule ;  but,  if  I  at- 
tain to  property  in  thought,  they  stand  as  my  creatures. 

If  the  hierarchy  had  not  so  penetrated  men  to  the  mner- 
most  as  to  take  from  them  all  courage  to  pursue  free 
thoughts,  i,  e.  thoughts  perhaps  displeasing  to  God,  one 
would  have  to  consider  freedom  of  thought  just  as 
empty  a  word  as,  say,  a  freedom  of  digestion. 

According  to  the  professionals'  opinion,  the  thought  is 
given  to  me ;  according  to  the  freethinkers',  /  seek  the 
thought.  There  the  truth  is  already  found  and  extant, 
only  I  must — receive  it  from  its  Giver  by  grace;  here  the 
truth  is  to  be  sought  and  is  my  goal,  lying  in  the  future, 
toward  which  I  have  to  run. 

In  both  cases  the  truth  (the  true  thought)  lies  out- 
side me,  and  I  aspire  to  get  it,  be  it  by  presentation 
(grace),  be  it  by  earning  (merit  of  my  own).  Therefore, 


362  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


(1)  The  truth  is  a  privilege,  (2)  No,  the  way  to  it  is 
patent  to  all,  and  neither  the  Bible  nor  the  holy  fathers 
nor  the  church  nor  any  one  else  is  in  possession  of  the 
truth ;  but  one  can  come  into  possession  of  it  by — specu- 
lating. 

Both,  one  sees,  are  propertyless  in  relation  to  the 
truth;  they  have  it  either  as  a  fief  (for  the  ''holy  father," 
e.  g.,  is  not  a  unique  person ;  as  unique  he  is  this  Sixtus, 
Clement,  etc.,  but  he  does  not  have  the  truth  as  Sixtus, 
Clement,  etc.,  but  as  ''holy  father,''  i.  e.  as  a  spirit)  or  as 
an  ideal.  As  a  fief,  it  is  only  for  a  few  (the  privileged)  ; 
as  an  ideal,  for  all  (the  patentees). 

Freedom  of  thought,  then,  has  the  meaning  that  we 
do  indeed  all  walk  in  the  dark  and  in  the  paths  of  error, 
but  every  one  can  on  this  path  approach  the  truth,  and 
is  accordingly  on  the  right  path  ("All  roads  lead  to 
Rome,  to  the  world's  end,  etc.").  Hence  freedom  of 
thought  means  this  much,  that  the  true  thought  is  not  my 
own;  for,  if  it  were  this,  how  should  people  want  to  shut 
me  off  from  it? 

Thinking  has  become  entirely  free,  and  has  laid  down 
a  lot  of  truths  which  /  must  accommodate  myself  to.  It 
seeks  to  complete  itself  into  a  system  and  to  bring  itself 
to  an  absolute  "constitution."  In  the  State  e.  g,  it  seeks 
for  the  ideä,  say,  till  it  has  brought  out  the  "rational 
State,"  in  which  I  am  then  obliged  to  be  suited ;  in  man 
(anthropology),  till  it  "has  found  man." 

The  thinker  is  distinguished  from  the  believer  only  by 
believing  much  more  than  the  latter,  who  on  his  part 
thinks  of  much  less  as  signified  by  his  faith  (creed).  The 
thinker  has  a  thousand  tenets  of  faith  where  the  believer 
gets  along  with  few ;  but  the  former  brings  coherence 
into  his  tenets,  and  takes  the  coherence  in  turn  for  the 
scale  to  estimate  their  worth  by.  If  one  or  the  other  does 
not  fit  into  his  budget,  he  throws  it  out. 

The  thinkers  run  parallel  to  the  believers  in  their  pro- 
nouncements. Instead  of  "If  it  is  from  God  you  will  not 
root  it  out,"  the  word  is  "If  it  is  from  the  truth,  is  true, 
etc." ;  instead  of  "Give  God  the  glory" — "Give  truth  the 


THE  OWNER 


363 


glory/*  But  it  is  very  much  the  same  to  me  whether  God 
or  the  truth  wins ;  first  and  foremost  /  want  to  win. 

Aside  from  this,  how  is  an  ''unHmited  freedom''  to  be 
thinkable  inside  of  the  State  or  society  ?  The  State  may 
well  protect  one  against  another,  but  yet  it  must  not  let 
itself  be  endangered  by  an  unmeasured  freedom,  a  so- 
called  unbridledness.  Thus  in  ''freedom  of  instruction'' 
the  State  declares  only  this — that  it  is  suited  with  every 
one  who  instructs  as  the  State  (or,  speaking  more  com- 
prehensibly, the  political  power)  would  have  it.  The 
point  for  the  competitors  is  this  ''as  the  State  would  have 
it."  If  the  clergy,  e,  g.,  does  not  will  as  the  State  does, 
then  it  itself  excludes  itself  from  competition  {vid. 
France) .  The  limit  that  is  necessarily  drawn  in  the  State 
for  any  and  all  competition  is  called  "the  oversight  and 
superintendence  of  the  State."  In  bidding  freedom  of 
instruction  keep  within  the  due  bounds,  the  State  at  the 
same  time  fixes  the  scope  of  freedom  of  thought;  be- 
cause, as  a  rule,  people  do  not  think  farther  than  their 
teachers  have  thought. 

Hear  Minister  Guizot:  *'The  great  difficulty  of  to-day 
is  the  guiding  and  dominating  of  the  mind.  Formerly  the 
church  fulfilled  this  mission ;  now  it  is  not  adequate  to  it. 
It  is  from  the  university  that  this  great  service  must  be 
expected,  and  the  university  will  not  fail  to  perform  it. 
We,  the  government,  have  the  duty  of  supporting  it 
therein.  The  charter  calls  for  the  freedom  of  thought 
and  that  of  conscience."*  So,  in  favor  of  freedom  of 
thought  and  conscience,  the  minister  demands  "the 
guiding  and  dominating  the  mind." 

Catholicism  haled  the  examinee  before  the  forum  of 
ecclesiasticism.  Protestantism  before  that  of  biblical 
Christianity.  It  would  be  but  little  bettered  if  one  haled 
him  before  that  of  reason,  as  Ruge,  e.  g,,  wants  to.f 
Whether  the  church,  the  Bible,  or  reason  (to  which, 
moreover,  Luther  and  Huss  already  appealed)  is  the 
sacred  authority  makes  no  difTerence  in  essentials. 


*  Chamber  of  peers.  Apr.  25.  1844.        t  "Anecdota,'*  1,  120. 


364  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


The  /'question  of  our  time"  does  not  become  soluble 
even  when  one  puts  it  thus :  Is  anything  general  author- 
ized, or  only  the  individual?  Is  the  generality  (such  as 
State,  law,  custom,  morality,  etc.)  authorized,  or  individ- 
uality? It  becomes  soluble  for  the  first  time  when  one 
no  longer  asks  after  an  ''authorization''  at  all,  and  does 
not  carry  on  a  mere  fight  against  "privileges." — A 
"rational"  freedom  of  teaching,  which  "recognizes  only 
the  conscience  of  reason,"'''  does  not  bring  us  to  the  goal ; 
we  require  an  egoistic  freedom  of  teaching  rather,  a  free- 
dom of  teaching  for  all  ownness,  wherein  /  become 
audible  and  can  announce  myself  unchecked.  That  I 
make  myself  "audible/'f  this  alone  is  "reason,"^  be  I 
ever  so  irrational;  in  my  making  myself  heard,  and  so 
hearing  myself,  others  as  well  as  I  myself  enjoy  me,  and 
at  the  same  time  consume  me. 

What  would  be  gained  if,  as  formerly  the  orthodox  I, 
the  loyal  I,  the  moral  I,  etc.,  was  free,  now  the  rational  I 
should  become  free?   Would  this  be  the  freedom  of  me? 

If  I  am  free  as  "rational  I,"  then  the  rational  in  me, 
or  reason,  is  free  ;  and  this  freedom  of  reason,  or  freedom 
of  the  thought,  was  the  ideal  of  the  Christian  world  from 
of  old.  They  wanted  to  make  thinking — and,  as  afore- 
said, faith  is  also  thinking,  as  thinking  is  faith — free; 
the  thinkers,  i.  e.  the  believers  as  well  as  the  rational,  were 
to  be  free ;  for  the  rest  freedom  was  impossible.  But  the 
freedom  of  thinkers  is  the  "freedom  of  the  children  of 
God,"  and  at  the  same  time  the  most  merciless — hierarchy 
or  dominion  of  the  thought ;  for  /  succumb  to  the  thought. 
If  thoughts  are  free,  I  am  their  slave;  I  have  no  power 
over  them,  and  am  dominated  by  them.  But  I  want  to 
have  the  thought,  want  to  be  full  of  thoughts,  but  at  the 
same  time  I  want  to  be  thoughtless,  and,  instead  of  free- 
dom of  thought,  I  preserve  for  myself  thoughtlessness. 

If  the  point  is  to  have  myself  understood  and  to  make 
communications,  then  assuredly  I  can  make  use  only  of 
human  means,  which  are  at  my  command  because  I  am 


THE  OWNER 


365 


at  the  same  time  man  And  really  I  have  thoughts  only 
as  man;  as  I,  I  am  at  the  same  time  thoughtless,"^  He 
who  cannot  get  rid  of  a  thought  is  so  far  only  man,  is  a 
thrall  of  language,  this  human  institution,  this  treasury 
of  human  thoughts.  Language  or  ''the  word"  tyrannizes 
hardest  over  us,  because  it  brings  up  against  us  a  whole 
army  of  fixed  ideas.  Just  observe  yourself  in  the  act  of 
reflection,  right  now,  and  you  will  find  how  you  make 
progress  only  by  becoming  thoughtless  and  speechless 
every  moment.  You  are  not  thoughtless  and  speechless 
merely  in  (say)  sleep,  but  even  in  the  deepest  reflection; 
yes,  precisely  then  most  so.  And  only  by  this  thought- 
lessness, this  unrecognized  ''freedom  of  thought"  or  free- 
dom from  the  thought,  are  you  your  own.  Only  from 
it  do  you  arrive  at  putting  language  to  use  as  your 
property. 

If  thinking  is  not  my  thinking,  it  is  merely  a  spun-out 
thought ;  it  is  slave  work,  or  the  work  of  a  "servant  obey- 
ing at  the  word."  For  not  a  thought,  but  I,  am  the  be- 
ginning for  my  thinking,  and  therefore  I  am  its  goal  too, 
even  as  its  whole  course  is  only  a  course  of  my  self- 
enjoyment  ;  for  absolute  or  free  thinking,  on  the  other 
hand,  thinking  itself  is  the  beginning,  and  it  plagues  itself 
with  propounding  this  beginning  as  the  extremest  "ab- 
straction" {e,  g.  as  being).  This  very  abstraction,  or  this 
thought,  is  then  spun  out  further. 

Absolute  thinking  is  the  affair  of  the  human  spirit,  and 
this  is  a  holy  spirit.  Hence  this  thinking  is  an  affair  of 
the  parsons,  who  have  "a  sense  for  it,"  a  sense  for  the 
"highest  interests  of  mankind,"  for  "the  spirit." 

To  the  believer,  truths  are  a  settled  thing,  a  fact;  to 
the  freethinker,  a  thing  that  is  still  to  be  settled.  Be  ab- 
solute thinking  ever  so  unbelieving,  its  incredulity  has  its 
limits,  and  there  does  remain  a  belief  in  the  truth,  in  the 
spirit,  in  the  idea  and  its  final  victory :  this  thinking  does 
not  sin  against  the  holy  spirit.  But  all  thinking  that  does 
not  sin  against  the  holy  spirit  is  belief  in  spirits  or 
ghosts. 

*  [Literally  ''thought-rid."] 


366  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


I  can  as  little  renounce  thinking  as  feeling,  the  spirit's 
activity  as  little  as  the  activity  of  the  senses.  As  feeling 
is  our  sense  for  things,  so  thinking  is  our  sense  for  es- 
sences (thoughts).  Essences  have  their  existence  in 
everything  sensuous,  especially  in  the  word.  The  power 
of  words  follows  that  of  things;  first  one  is  coerced  by 
the  rod,  afterward  by  conviction.  The  might  of  things 
overcomes  our  courage,  our  spirit ;  against  the  power  of 
a  conviction,  and  so  of  the  word,  even  the  rack  and  the 
sword  lose  their  overpoweringness  and  force.  The  men 
of  conviction  are  the  priestly  men,  who  resist  every 
enticement  of  Satan. 

Christianity  took  away  from  the  things  of  this  world 
only  their  irresistibleness,  made  us  independent  of  them. 
In  like  manner  I  raise  myself  above  truths  and  their 
power :  as  I  am  supersensual,  so  I  am  super-true.  Before 
me  truths  are  as  common  and  as  indifferent  as  things ; 
they  do  not  cai-ry  me  away,  and  do  not  inspire  me  with 
enthusiasm.  There  exists  not  even  one  truth,  not  right, 
not  freedom,  humanity,  etc.,  that  has  stability  before  me, 
and  to  which  I  subject  myself.  They  are  words,  nothing 
but  words,  as  all  things  are  to  the  Christian  nothing  but 
'Vain  things.''  In  words  and  truths  (every  word  is  a 
truth,  as  Hegel  asserts  that  one  cannot  tell  a  lie)  there  is 
no  salvation  for  me,  as  little  as  there  is  for  the  Christian 
in  things  and  vanities.  As  the  riches  of  this  world  do 
not  make  me  happy,  so  neither  do  its  truths.  It  is  now 
no  longer  Satan,  but  the  spirit,  that  plays  the  story  of  the 
temptation ;  and  he  does  not  seduce  by  the  things  of  this 
world,  but  by  its  thoughts,  by  the  ''glitter  of  the  idea." 

Along  with  worldly  goods,  all  sacred  goods  too  must 
be  put  away  as  no  longer  valuable- 

Truths  are  phrases,  ways  of  speaking,  words  (Xoyoq)  ; 
brought  into  connection,  or  into  an  articulate  series,  they 
form  logic,  science,  philosophy. 

For  thinking  and  speaking  I  need  truths  and  words, 
as  I  do  foods  for  eating;  without  them  I  cannot  think 
nor  speak.  Truths  are  men's  thoughts,  set  down  in  words 
and  therefore  just  as  extant  as  other  things,  although 


THE  OWNER 


367 


extant  only  for  the  mind  or  for  thinking.  They  are 
human  institutions  and  human  creatures,  and,  even  if  they 
are  given  out  for  divine  revelations,  there  still  remains 
in  them  the  quality  of  alienness  for  me ;  yes,  as  my  own 
creatures  they  are  already  alienated  from  me  after  the 
act  of  creation. 

The  Christian  man  is  the  man  with  faith  in  thinking, 
who  believes  in  the  supreme  dominion  of  thoughts  and 
wants  to  bring  thoughts,  so-called  ''principles,"  to 
dominion.  Many  a  one  does  indeed  test  the  thoughts,  and 
chooses  none  of  them  for  his  master  without  criticism, 
but  in  this  he  is  like  the  dog  who  sniffs  at  people  to  smell 
out  ''his  master" ;  he  is  always  aiming  at  the  ruling 
thought.  The  Christian  may  reform  and  revolt  an  infinite 
deal,  may  demolish  the  ruling  concepts  of  centuries ;  he 
will  always  aspire  to  a  new  "principle"  or  new  master 
again,  always  set  up  a  higher  or  "deeper"  truth  again, 
always  call  forth  a  cult  again,  always  proclaim  a  spirit 
called  to  dominion,  lay  down  a  law  for  all. 

If  there  is  even  one  truth  only  to  which  man  has  to 
devote  his  life  and  his  powers  because  he  is  man,  then 
he  is  subjected  to  a  rule,  dominion,  law,  etc. ;  he  is  a 
servingman.  It  is  supposed  that,  e.  g.,  man,  humanity, 
liberty,  etc.,  are  such  truths. 

On  the  other  hand,  one  can  say  thus :  Whether  you  will 
further  occupy  yourself  with  thinking  depends  on  you ; 
only  know  that,  if  in  your  thinking  you  would  like  to 
make  out  anything  worthy  of  notice,  many  hard  problems 
are  to  be  solved,  without  vanquishing  which  you  cannot 
get  far.  There  exists,  therefore,  no  duty  and  no  calling 
for  you  to  meddle  with  thoughts  (ideas,  truths)  ;  but,  if 
you  will  do  so,  you  will  do  well  to  utilize  what  the  forces 
of  others  have  already  achieved  toward  clearing  up  these 
difficult  subjects. 

Thus,  therefore,  he  who  will  think  does  assuredly  have 
a  task,  which  he  consciously  or  unconsciously  sets  for 
himself  in  willing  that ;  but  no  one  has  the  task  of  think- 
ing or  of  believing. — In  the  former  case  it  may  be  said. 
You  do  not  go  far  enough,  you  have  a  narrow  and  biased 


368 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN. 


interest,  you  do  not  go  to  the  bottom  of  the  thing ;  in 
short,  you  do  not  completely  subdue  it.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  however  far  you  may  come  at  any  time,  you  are 
still  always  at  the  end,  you  have  no  call  to  step  farther, 
and  you  can  have  it  as  you  will  or  as  you  are  able.  It 
stands  with  this  as  with  any  other  piece  of  work,  which 
you  can  give  up  when  the  humor  for  it  wears  off.  Just  so,  ^ 
if  you  can  no  longer  believe  a  thing,  you  do  not  have  to 
force  yourself  into  faith  or  to  busy  yourself  lastingly  as 
if  with  a  sacred  truth  of  the  faith,  as  theologians  or 
philosophers  do,  but  you  can  tranquilly  draw  back  your 
interest  from  it  and  let  it  run.  Priestly  spirits  will  indeed 
expound  this  your  lack  of  interest  as  "'laziness,  thought- 
lessness, obduracy,  self-deception,"  and  the  like.  But  do 
you  just  let  the  trumpery  lie,  notwithstanding.  No  thing,* 
no  so-called  ''highest  interest  of  mankind,''  no  "sacred 
cause,''t  is  worth  your  serving  it,  and  occupying  your- 
self with  it  for  its  sake;  you  may  seek  its  worth  in  this 
alone,  whether  it  is  worth  anything  to  you  for  your  sake, 
ßecome  like  children,  the  biblical  saying  admonishes  us. 
But  children  have  no  sacred  interest  and  know  nothing 
of  a  "good  cause."  They  know  all  the  more  accurately 
what  they  have  a  fancy  for ;  and  they  think  over,  to  the 
best  of  their  powers,  how  they  are  to  arrive  at  it. 

Thinking  will  as  little  cease  as  feeling.  But  the  power 
of  thoughts  and  ideas,  the  dominion  of  theories  and  prin- 
ciples, the  sovereignty  of  the  spirit,  in  short  the — hier- 
archy, lasts  as  long  as  the  parsons,  i.  e.  theologians,  phil- 
osophers, statesmen,  philistines,  liberals,  schoolmasters, 
servants,  parents,  children,  married  couples,  Proudhon, 
George  Sand,  Bluntschli,  etc.,  etc.,  have  the  floor ;  the 
hierarchy  will  endure  as  long  as  people  believe  in,  think 
of,  or  even  criticise,  principles ;  for  even  the  most  inex- 
orable criticism,  which  undermines  all  current  principles, 
still  does  finally  believe  in  the  principle. 

Every  one  criticises,  but  the  criterion  is  different.  Peo- 
ple run  after  the  "right"  criterion.    The  right  criterion  is 


*  [Sachel 


t  [Sache] 


THE  OWNER 


369 


the  first  presupposition.  The  critic  starts  from  a  proposi- 
tion, a  truth,  a  behef .  This  is  not  a  creation  of  the  critic, 
but  of  the  dogmatist ;  nay,  commonly  it  is  actually  taken 
up  out  of  the  culture  of  the  time  without  further  cere- 
mony, like  e.  g.  ''liberty,''  ''humanity,"  etc.  The  critic 
has  not  "discovered  man,"  but  this  truth  has  been  estab- 
lished as  "man"  by  the  dogmatist,  and  the  critic  (who,  be- 
sides, may  be  the  same  person  with  him)  believes  in  this 
truth,  this  article  of  faith.  In  this  faith,  and  possessed 
by  this  faith,  he  criticises. 

The  secret  of  criticism  is  some  "truth"  or  other:  this 
remains  its  energizing  mystery. 

But  I  distinguish  between  servile  and  own  criticism. 
If  I  criticise  under  the  presupposition  of  a  supreme  being, 
my  criticism  serves  the  being  and  is  carried  on  for  its  sake : 
if,  e.  g.,  I  am  possessed  by  the  belief  in  a  "free  State,"  then 
everything  that  has  a  bearing  on  it  I  criticise  from  the 
standpoint  of  whether  it  is  suitable  to  this  State,  for  I 
love  this  State ;  if  I  criticise  as  a  pious  man,  then  for  me 
everything  falls  into  the  classes  of  divine  and  diabolical, 
and  before  my  criticism  nature  consists  of  traces  of  God 
or  traces  of  the  devil  (hence  names  like  Godsgift,  God- 
mount,  the  Devil's  Pulpit,  etc.),  men  of  believers  and 
unbelievers,  etc. ;  if  I  criticise  while  believing  in  man  as  the 
"true  essence,"  then  for  me  everything  falls  primarily  into 
the  classes  of  man  and  the  un-man,  etc. 

Criticism  has  to  this  day  remained  a  work  of  love :  for 
at  all  times  we  exercised  it  for  the  love  of  some  being.  All 
servile  criticism  is  a  product  of  love,  a  possessedness,  and 
proceeds  according  to  that  New  Testament  precept,  "Test 
everything  and  hold  fast  the  goodf^  .  "The  good"  is  the 
touchstone,  the  criterion.  The  good,  returning  under  a 
thousand  names  and  forms,  remained  always  the  pre- 
supposition, remained  the  dogmatic  fixed  point  for  this 
criticism,  remained  the — fixed  idea. 

The  critic,  in  setting  to  work,  impartially  presupposes 
the  "truth,"  and  seeks  for  the  truth  in  the  belief  that  it  is 


*  1  Thess.  5,  21. 


370 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


to  be  found.    He  wants  to  ascertain  the  true,  and  has 
in  it  that  very  ^'good/' 

Presupposes  means  nothing  else  than  put  a  thought  in 
front,  or  think  something  before  everything  else  and  think 
the  rest  from  the  starting-point  of  this  that  has  been 
thought,  i.  e,  measure  and  criticise  it  by  this.  In  other 
words,  this  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  thinking  is  to  begin 
with  something  already  thought.  If  thinking  began  at 
all,  instead  of  being  begun,  if  thinking  were  a  subject,  an 
acting  personality  of  its  own,  as  even  the  plant  is  such, 
then  indeed  there  would  be  no  abandoning  the  principle 
that  thinking  must  begin  with  itself.  But  it  is  just  the 
personification  of  thinking  that  brings  to  pass  those  in- 
numerable errors.  In  the  Hegelian  system  they  always 
talk  as  if  thinking  or  "the  thinking  spirit''  (i.  e.  personi- 
fied thinking,  thinking  as  a  ghost)  thought  and  acted ;  in 
critical  liberalism  it  is  always  said  that  ''criticism''  does 
till  and  that,  or  else  that  ''self-consciousness"  finds  this 
and  that.  But,  if  thinking  ranks  as  the  personal  actor, 
thinking  itself  must  be  presupposed ;  if  criticism  ranks  as 
such,  a  thought  must  likewise  stand  in  front.  Thinking 
and  criticism  could  be  active  only  starting  from  them-  j 
selves,  would  have  to  be  themselves  the  presupposition  of  [ 
their  activity,  as  without  being  they  could  not  be  active. 
But  thinking,  as  a  thing  presupposed,  is  a  fixed  thought, 
a  dogma;  thinking  and  criticism,  therefore,  can  start  only 
from  a  dogma,  i.  e,  trom  a  thought,  a  fixed  idea,  a  pre- 
supposition. 

With  this  we  come  back  again  to  what  was  enunciated 
above,  the  Christianity  consists  in  the  development  of  a 
world  of  thoughts  or  that  it  is  the  proper  "freedom 
of  thought,"  '  the  "free  thought,"  the  "free  spirit." 
The  "true"  criticism,  which  I  called  "servile,"  is  there- 
fore just  as  much  "free"  criticism,  for  it  is  not  my  own. 

The  case  stands  otherwise  when  what  is  yours  is  not 
made  into  something  that  is  of  itself,  not  personified,  not 
made  independent  as  a  "spirit"  to  itself.  Your  thinking 
has  for  a  presupposition  not  "thinking,"  but  you.  But 
thus  you  do  presuppose  yourself  after  all?  Yes,  but  not 


THE  OWNER 


371 


for  myself,  but  for  my  thinking.  Before  my  thinking, 
there  is — I.  From  this  it  follows  that  my  thinking  is  not 
preceded  by  a  thought,  or  that  my  thinking  is  without  a 
"presupposition/'  For  the  presupposition  which  I  am  for 
my  thinking  is  not  one  made  by  thinking,  not  one  thought 
of  ,  but  it  is  posited  thinking  itself,  it  is  the  ozvner  of  the 
thought,  and  proves  only  that  thinking  is  nothing  more 
than — property,  i.  e,  that  an  '^independent"  thinking,  a 
^'thinking  spirit,"  does  not  exist  at  all. 

This  reversal  of  the  usual  way  of  regarding  things 
might  so  resemble  an  empty  playing  with  abstractions  that 
even  those  against  whom  it  is  directed  would  acquiesce  in 
the  harmless  aspect  I  give  it,  if  practical  consequences 
were  not  connected  With  it. 

To  bring  these  into  a  concise  expression,  the  assertion 
now  made  is  that  man  is  not  the  measure  of  all  things, 
ut  I  am  this  measure.  The  servile  critic  has  before  his 
^ye  another  being,  an  idea,  which  he  means  to  serve ; 
.:hereiore^h€  only  slays  the  false  idols  for  his  God.  What 
is  done  for  the  love  of  this  being,  what  else  should  it  be 
but  a — work  of  love  ?  But  I,  when  I  criticise,  do  not  even 
have  myself  before  my  eyes,  but  am  only  doing  myself  a 
pleasure,  amusing  myself  according  to  my  taste ;  accord- 
ing to  my  several  needs  I  chew  the  thing  up  or  only 
inhale  its  odor. 

The  distinction  between  the  two  attitudes  will  come 
out  still  more  strikingly  if  one  reflects  that  the  servile 
critic,  because  love  guides  him,  supposes  he  is  serving 
the  thing  [cause]  itself. 

The  truth,  or  *'truth  in  general,"  people  are  bound  not 
to  give  up,  but  to  seek  for.  What  else  it  is  but  the  etre 
supreme,  the  highest  essence?  Even  ''true  criticism" 
would  have  to  despair  if  it  lost  faith  in  the  truth.  And 
yet  the  truth  is  only  a — thought;  but  it  is  not  merely  "a" 
thought,  but  the  thought  that  is  above  all  thoughts,  the 
irrefragable  thought;  it  is  the  thought  itself,  which  gives 
the  first  hallowing  to  all  others ;  it  is  the  consecration  of 
thoughts,  the  "absolute,"  the  "sacred"  thought.  The 
truth  wears  longer  than  all  the  gods ;  for  it  is  only  in  the 


372  THE  EGO'  AND  HIS  OWN 


truth's  service,  and  for  love  of  it,  that  people  have  over-; 
thrown  the  gods  and  at  last  God  himself.  "The  truth" 
outlasts  the  downfall  of  the  world  of  gods,  for  it  is  the 
immortal  soul  of  this  transitory  world  of  gods,  it  is  Deity 
itself. 

I  will  answer  Pilate's  question,  What  is  truth?  Truth 
is  the  free  thought,  the  free  idea,  the  free  spirit ;  truth  is 
what  is  free  from  you,  what  is  not  your  own,  what  is  not 
in  your  power.    But  truth  is  also  the  completely  uninde- 
pendent,  impersonal,  unreal,  and  incorporeal;  truth  can- 
not step  forward  as  you  do,  cannot  move,  change,  de- 
velop; truth  awaits  and  receives  everything  from  you, 
and  itself  is  only  through  you ;  for  it  exists  only — in 
your  head.    You  concede  that  the  truth  is  a  thought,  but 
say  that  not  every  thought  is  a  true  one,  or,  as  you  are 
also  likely  to  express  it,  not  every  thought  is  truly  and 
really  a  thought.    And  by  what  do  you  measure  and 
recognize  the  thought?    By  your  impotence,  to  wit,  by 
your  being  no  longer  able  to  make  any  successful  assault  ! 
on  it !  When  it  overpowers  you,  inspires  you,  and  carries 
you  away,  then  you  hold  it  to  be  the  true  one.    Its  do- 
minion over  you  certifies  to  you  its  truth ;  and,  when  it ; 
possesses  you,  and  you  are  possessed  by  it,  then  you  feel'  1 
well  with  it,  for  then  you  have  found  your — lord  and 
master.  When  you  were  seeking  the  truth,  what  did  your 
heart  then  long  for?    For  your  master!    You  did  not 
aspire  to  your  might,  but  to  a  Mighty  One,  and  wanted  I 
to  exalt  a  Mighty  One  (''Exalt  ye  the  Lord  our  God!"). 
The  truth,  my  dear  Pilate,  is — the  Lord,  and  all  who  seek 
the  truth  are  seeking  and  praising  the  Lord.   Where  does  ^ 
the  Lord  exist?    Where  else  but  in  your  head?    He  is  | 
only  spirit,  and,  wherever  you  believe  you  really  see  him, 
there  he  is  a — ghost;  for  the  Lord  is  merely  something  < 
that  is  thought  of,  and  it  was  only  the  Christian  pains  and  « 
agony  to  make  the  invisible,  visible,  the  spiritual  cor-  I ' 
poreal,  that  generated  the  ghost  and  was  the  frightful  1^ 
misery  of  the  belief  in  ghosts.  ^ 

As  long  as  you  believe  in  the  truth,  you  do  not  believe 
in  yourself,  and  you  are  a — servant,  a — religious  man,  * 


THE  OWNER 


373 


You  alone  are  the  truth,  or  rather,  you  are  more  than  the 
truth,  which  is  nothing  at  all  before  you.  You  too  do 
assuredly  ask  about  the  truth,  you  too  do  assuredly 
^'criticise,"  but  you  do  not  ask  about  a  "higher  truth'' — 
to  wit,  one  that  should  be  higher  than  you — nor  criticise 
according  to  the  criterion  of  such  a  truth.  You  address 
yourself  to  thoughts  and  notions,  as  you  do  to  the  appear- 
ances of  things,  only  for  the  purpose  of  making  them 
palatable  to  you,  enjoyable  to  you,  and  your  own:  you 
want  only  to  subdue  them  and  become  their  owner,  you 
want  to  orient  yourself  and  feel  at  home  in  them,  and 
you  find  them  true,  or  see  them  in  their  true  light,  when 
they  can  no  longer  slip  away  from  you,  no  longer  have 
any  unseized  or  uncomprehended  place,  or  when  they 
are  right  for  you,  when  they  are  your  property.  If  after- 
ward they  become  heavier  again,  if  they  wriggle  them- 
selves out  of  your  power  again,  then  that  is  just  their 
untruth — to  wit,  your  impotence.  Your  impotence  is  their 
power,  your  humility  their  exaltation.  Their  truth, 
therefore,  is  you,  or  is  the  nothing  which  you  are  for 
them  and  in  which  they  dissolve:  their  truth  is  their 
nothingness. 

Only  as  the  property  of  me  do  the  spirits,  the  truths, 
get  to  rest;  and  they  then  for  the  first  time  really  are, 
when  they  have  been  deprived  of  their  sorry  existence 
^nd  made  a  property  of  mine,  when  it  is  no  longer  said 
''the  truth  develops  itself,  rules,  asserts  itself ;  history 
(also  a  concept)  wins  the  victory,''  and  the  like.  The 
truth  never  has  Von  a  victory,  but  was  always  my  means 
to  the  victory,  like  the  sword  (''the  sword  of  truth"). 
The  truth  is  dead,  a  letter,  a  word,  a  material  that  I 
can  use  up.  All  truth  by  itself  is  dead,  a  corpse;  it  is 
alive  only  in  the  same  way  as  my  lungs  are  alive — to  wit, 
in  the  measure  of  my  own  vitality.  Truths  are  material, 
like  vegetables  and  weeds;  as  to  whether  vegetable  or 
weed,  the  decision  lies  in  me. 

Objects  are  to  me  only  material  that  I  use  up.  Wher- 
ever I  put  my  hand  I  grasp  a  truth,  which  I  trim  for 
myself.    The  truth  is  certain  to  me,  and  I  do  not  need 


374  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


to  long  after  it.  To  do  the  truth  a  service  is  in  no  case  t 
my  intent ;  it  is  to  me  only  a  nourishment  for  my  think-  i  ' 
ing  head,  as  potatoes  are  f  or  my  digesting  stomach,  or  as  !  ( 
a  friend  is  for  my  social  heart.  As  long  as  I  have  the  ,j 
humor  and  force  for  thinking,  every  truth  serves  me  only  i  t 
for  me  to  work  it  up  according  to  my  powers.  As  reality  j 
or  worldliness  is  ^'vain  and  a  thing  of  naught''  for  Chris-  j 
tians,  so  is  the  truth  for  me.  It  exists,  exactly  as  much  \ 
as  the  things  of  this  world  go  on  existing  although  the  I  | 
Christian  has  proved  their  nothingness ;  but  it  is  vain,  be-  ( 
cause  it  has  its  value  not  in  itself  but  in  me.  Of  itself  it 
is  valueless.    The  truth  is  a — creature.  ;  ( 

As  you  produce  innumerable  things  by  your  activity,  i  i 
yes,  shape  the  earth's  surface  anew  and  set  up  works  of  \ 
men  everywhere,  so  too  you  may  still  ascertain  number-  ' 
less  truths  by  your  thinking,  and  we  will  gladly  take  |  | 
delight  in  them.  Nevertheless,  as  I  do  not  please  to  hand  j 
myself  over  to  serve  your  newly  discovered  machines  ( 
mechanically,  but  only  help  to  set  them  running  for  my  j 
benefit,  so  too  I  will  only  use  your  truths,  without  letting  j 
myself  be  used  for  their  demands.  1 
All  truths  beneath  me  are  to  my  liking ;  a  truth  above  j 
me,  a  truth  that  I  should  have  to  direct  myself  by,  I  am  j 
not  acquainted  with.  For  me  there  is  no  truth,  for  noth-  [ 
ing  is  more  than  I!  Not  even  my  essence,  not  even  the  ( 
essence  of  man,  is  more  than  I !  than  I,  this  *'drop  in  the|  c 
bucket,"  this  ^^insignificant  man"! 

You  believe  that  you  have  done  the  utmost  when  yoU|  | 
boldly  assert  that,  because  every  time  has  its  own  truth,  |  ^ 
there  is  no  "absolute  truth."  Why,  with  this  you  never- 1 
theless  still  leave  to  each  time  its  truth,  and  thus  you  quite  |  j 
genuinely  create  an  "absoloite  truth,''  a  truth  that  no  timcj  j 
lacks,  because  every  time,  however  its  truth  may  be,  still  | , 
has  a  "truth."  ^     ^  1 1 

Is  it  meant  only  that  people  have  been  thinking  in  ever]!  ^ 
time,  and  so  have  had  thoughts  or  truths,  and  that  in  the  { 
subsequent  time  these  were  other  than  they  were  in  the 
earlier?    No,  the  word  is  to  be  that  every  time  had  its  { 
**truth  of  faith" ;  and  in  fact  none  has  yet  appeared  in 


THE  OWNER 


375 


which  a  ''higher  truth"  has  not  been  recognized,  a  truth 
that  people  beHeved  they  m-ust  subject  themselves  to  as 
''highness  and  majesty/'  Every  truth  of  a  time  is  its 
fixed  idea,  and,  if  people  later  found  another  truth,  this 
always  happened  only  because  they  sought  for  another;; 
they  only  reformed  the  folly  and  put  a  modern  dress  on 
it.  For  they  did  want — who  would  dare  doubt  their  justi- 
fication for  this? — they  wanted  to  be  "inspired  by  an 
idea/'  They  wanted  to  be  dominated — possessed,  by  a 
thought!  The  most  modern  ruler  of  this  kind  is  "our 
essence,''  or  "man/' 

For  all  free  criticism  a  thought  was  the  criterion;  for 
own  criticism  I  am,  I  the  unspeakable,  and  so  not  the 
merely  thought-of;  for  what  is  merely  thought  of  is 
always  speakable,  because  word  and  thought  coincide. 
That  is  true  which  is  mine,  untrue  that  whose  own* I  am; 
true,  e,  g.,  the  union  ;  untrue,  the  State  and  society.  "Free 
and  true"  criticism  takes  care  for  the  consistent  dominion 
of  a  thought,  an  idea,  a  spirit ;  "own"  criticism,  for  noth- 
ing but  my  self-enjoyment.  But  in  this  the  latter  is  in 
fact — and  we  will  not  spare  it  this  "ignominy" ! — like  the 
bestial  criticism  of  instinct.  I,  like  the  criticising  beast, 
am  concerned  only  for  myself,  not  "for  the  cause."  / 
am  the  criterion  of  truth,  but  I  am  not  an  idea,  but  more 
than  idea,  i.  e.  unutterable.  My  criticism  is  not  a  "free" 
criticism,  not  free  from  me,  and  not  "servile/'  not  in  the 
service  of  an  idea,  but  an  own  criticism. 

True  or  human  criticism  makes  out  only  whether  some- 
thing is  suitable  to  man,  to  the  true  man ;  but  by  own* 
criticism  you  ascertain  whether  it  is  suitable  to  you. 

Free  criticism  busies  itself  with  ideas,  and  therefore  is 
always  theoretical.  However  it  may  rage  against  ideas; 
it  still  does  not  get  clear  of  them.  It  pitches  into  the 
ghosts,  but  it  can  do  this  only  as  it  holds  them  to  be 
ghosts.  The  ideas  it  has  to  do  with  do  not  fully  dis- 
appear ;  the.morning  breeze  of  a  new  day  does  not  scare 
them  away. 

The  critic  may  indeed  come  to  ataraxy  before  ideas, 
but  he  never  gets  rid  of  them,  i.  e.  -he  will  never  compre- 


376 


THE  EGO  AND-  HIS  OWN 


hend  that  above  the  bodily  man  there  does  not  exist  some- 
thing higher — to  wit,  liberty,  his.  humanity,  etc.  He 
always  has  a  ''calling''  of  man  still  left,  ''humanity."  And 
this  idea  of  humanity  remains  unrealized,  just  because  it 
is  an  "idea"  and  is  to  remain  such. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  I  grasp  the  idea  as  my  idea,  then 
it  is  already  realized,  because  /  am  its  reality ;  its*  reality 
consists  in  the  fact  that  I,  the  bodily,  have  it. 

They  say,  the  idea  of  liberty  realizes  itself  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  world.  The  reverse  is  the  case ;  this  idea  is 
real  as  a  man  thinks  it,  and  it  is  real  in  the  measure  in 
which  it  is  idea,  i.  e,  in  which  I  think  it  or  have  it.  It  is 
not  the  idea  of  liberty  that  develops  itself,  but  men  de- 
velop themselves,  and,  of  course,  in  this  self-development 
develop  their  thinking  too. 

In  short,  the  critic  is  not  yet  owner,  because  he  still 
fights  with  ideas  as  with  powerful  aliens — as  the  Chris- 
tian is  not  owner  of  his  "bad  desires"  so  long  as  he  has 
to  combat  them ;  for  him  who  contends  against  vice,  vice 
exists. 

Criticism  remains  stuck  fast  in  the  "freedom  of  know- 
ing," the  freedom  of  the  spirit,  and  the  spirit  gains  its 
proper  freedom  when  it  fills  itself  with  the  pure,  true 
idea;  this  is  the  freedom  of  thinking,  which  cannot  be 
without  thoughts. 

Criticism  smites  one  idea  only  by  another,  e,  g.  that  of 
privilege  by  that  of  manhood,  or  that  of  egoism  by  that| 
of  unselfishness.  I 

In  general,  the  beginning  of  Christianity  comes  on  the^ 
stage  again  in  its  critical  end,  egoism  being  combated  here 
as  there.  I  am  not  to  make  myself  (the  individual)  count, 
but  the  idea,  the  general. 

Why,  warfare  of  the  priesthood  with  egoism,  of  the 
spiritually-minded  with  the  worldly-minded,  constitutes 
the  substance  of  all  Christian  history.  In  the  newest  criti- 
cism this  war  only  becomes  all-embracing,  fanaticism 
complete.  Indeed,  neither  can  it  pass  away  till  it  passses 
thus,  after  it  has  had  its  life  and  its  rage  out. 


THE  OWNER 


377 


Whether  what  I  think  and  do  is  Christian,  what  do  I 
care  ?  Whether  it  is  humane,  liberal,  whether  unhuman, 
illiberal,  inhuman,  what  do  I  ask  about  that?  If  only  it 
accomplishes  what  I  want,  if  only  I  satisfy  myself  in  it, 
then  overlay  it  with  predicates  as  you  will ;  it  is  all  alike  to 
me. 

Perhaps  I  too,  in  the.  very  next  moment,  defend  myself 
against  my  former  thoughts;  I  too  am  likely  to  change 
suddenly  my  mode  of  action ;  but  not  on  account  of  its  not 
corresponding  to  Christianity,  not  on  account  of  its  run- 
ning counter  to  the  eternal  rights  of  man,  not  on  account 
of  its  affronting  the  idea  of  mankind,  humanity,  and  hu- 
manitarianism,  but — because  I  am  no  longer  all  in  it,  be- 
cause it  no  longer  furnishes  me  any  full  enjoyment, 
because  L doubt  the  earlier  thought  or  no  longer  please  my- 
self in  the  mode  of  action  just  now  practised. 

As  the  world  as  property  has  become  a  material  with 
which  I  undertake  what  I  will,  so  the  spirit  too,  as  prop- 
erty must  sink  down  into  a  material  before  which  I  no 
longer  entertain  any  sacred  dread.  Then,  firstly,  I  shall 
shudder  no  more  before  a  thought,  let  it  appear  as  pre- 
sumptuous and  ''deviHsh"  as  it  will,  because,  if  it  threatens 
to  become  too  inconvenient  and  unsatisfactory  for  me,  its 
end  lies  in  my  power;  but  neither  shall  I  recoil  from  any 
deed  because  there  dwells  in  it  a  spirit  of  godlessness,  im- 
morality, wrongfulness,  as  little  as  St.  Boniface  pleased  to 
desist,  through  religious  scrupulousness,  from  cutting 
down  the  sacred  oak  of  the  heathens.  If  the  things  of 
the  world  have  once  become  vain,  the  thoughts  of  the 
spirit  must  also  become  vain. 

No  thought  is  sacred,  for  let  no  thought  rank  as  "de- 
votions" ;*  no  feehng  is  sacred  (no  sacred  feeling  of 
friendship,  mothers  feelings,  etc.),  no  belief  is  sacred. 
They  are  all  alienable,  my  alienable  property,  and  are  an- 
nihilated, as  they  are  created,  by  me. 

The  Christian  can  lose  all  things  or  objects,  the  most 
loved  persons,  these  "objects"  of  his  love,  without  giving 
up  himself  (i.e.,  in  the  Christian  sense,  his  spirit,  his  soul) 

*  [Andachty  a  compound  form  of  the  word  ''thought."] 


378 


THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


as  lost.  The  owner  can  cast  from  him  all  the  thoughts 
that  were  dear  to  his  heart  and  kindled  his  zeal,  and  will 
likewise  ''gain  a  thousandfold  again,"  because  he,  their 
creator,  remains. 

Unconsciously  and  involuntarily  we  all  strive  toward 
ownness,  and  there  will  hardly  be  one  among  us  who  has 
not  given  up  a  sacred  feeling,  a  sacred  thought,  a  sacred 
belief ;  nay,  we  probably  meet  no  one  who  could  not  still 
deliver  himself  from  one  or  another  of  his  sacred  thoughts. 
All  our  contention  against  convictions  starts  from  the 
opinion  that  maybe  we  are  capable  of  driving  our  oppo- 
nent out  of  his  intrenchments  of  thought.  But  what  I  do 
unconsciously.  I  half  do,  and  therefore  after  every  victory 
over  a  faith  I  become  again  the  prisoner  (possessed)  of  a 
faith  which  then  takes  my  whole  self  anew  into  its  service, 
and  makes  me  an  enthusiast  for  reason  after  I  have 
ceased  to  be  enthusiastic  for  the  Bible,  or  an  enthusiast 
for  the  idea  of  humanity  after  I  have  fought  long  enough 
for  that  of  Christianity. 

Doubtless,  as  owner  of  thoughts,  I  shall  cover  my  prop- 
erty with  my  shield,  just  as  I  do  not,  as  owner  of  things, 
willingly  let  everybody  help  himself  to  them ;  but  at  the 
same  time  I  shall  look  forward  smilingly  to  the  outcome 
of  the  battle,  smilingly  lay  the  shield  on  the  corpses  of  my 
thoughts  and  my  faith,  smilingly  triumph  when  I  am 
beaten.  That  is  the  very  humor  of  the  thing.  Every  one 
who  has  ''sublimer  feelings''  is  able  to  vent  his  humor  on 
the  pettinesses  of  men  ;  but  let  it  play  with  all  "great 
thoughts,  sublime  feelings,  noble  inspiration,  and  sacred 
faith''  presupposes  that  I  am  the  owner  of  all. 

If  religion  has  set  up  the  proposition  that  we  are  sin- 
ners altogether,  I  set  over  against  it  the  other:  we  are 
perfect  altogether!  For  we  are,  every  moment,  all  that 
we  can  be ;  and  we  never  need  be  more.  Since  no  defect 
cleaves  to  us,  sin  has  no  meaning  either.  Show  me  a 
sinner  in  the  world  still,  if  no  one  any  longer  needs  to  do 
what  suits  a  superior!  If  I  only  need  do  what  suits  my- 
self, I  am  no  sinner  if  I  do  not  do  what  suits  mvself,  as  I 
do  not  injure  in  myself  a  "holy  one" ;  if,  on  the  other  hand, 


THE  OWNER 


379 


I  am  to  be  pious,  then  I  must  do  what  suits  God ;  if  I  am  to 
act  humanly,  I  must  do  what  suits  the  essence  of  man,  the 
idea  of  mankind,  etc.  What  rehgion  calls  the  ''sinner,'' 
humanitarianism  calls  the  ''egoist."  But,  once  more:  if  I 
need  not  do  what  suits  any  other,  is  the  "egoist,''  in  whom 
humanitarianism  has  borne  to  itself  a  new-fangled  devil, 
anything  more  than  a  piece  of  nonsense  ?  The  egoist,  be- 
fore whom  the  humane  shudder,  is  a  spook  as  much  as  the 
devil  is :  he  exists  only  as  a  bogie  and  phantasm  in  their 
brain.  If  they  were  not  unsophisticatedly  drifting  back 
and  forth  in  the  antediluvian  opposition  of  good  and  evil, 
to  which  they  have  given  the  modern  names  of  ''human" 
and  "egoistic,"  they  would  not  have  freshened  up  the 
hoary  "sinner"  into  an  "egoist"  either,  and  put  a  new 
patch  on  an  old  garment.  But  they  could  not  do  otherwise, 
for  they  hold  it  for  their  task  to  be  "men."  They  are  rid 
of  the  Good  One  ;  good  is  left 

We  are  perfect  altogether,  and  on  the  whole  earth  there 
is  not  one  man  who  is  a  sinner !  There  are  crazy  people 
who  imagine  that  they  are  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son, 
or  the  man  in  the  moon,  and  so  too  the  world  swarms 
with  fools  who  seem  to  themselves  to  be  sinners;  but,  as 
the  former  are  not  the  man  in  the  moon,  so  the  latter  are 
— not  sinners.    Their  sin  is  imaginary. 

Yet,  it  is  insidiously  objected,  their  craziness  or  their 
possessedness  is  at  least  their  sin.  Their  possessedness  is 
nothing  but  what  they — could  achieve,  the  result  of  their 
development,  just  as  Luther's  faith  in  the  Bible  was  all 
that  he  was — competent  to  make  out.  The  one  brings 
himself  into  the  madhouse  with  his  development,  the  other 
brings  himself  therewith  into  the  Pantheon  and  to  the  loss 
of— Valhalla. 

There  is  no  sinner  and  no  sinful  egoism ! 

Get  away  from  me  with  your  "philanthropy'*!  Creep 
in,  you  philanthropist,  into  the  "dens  of  vice,"  linger 
awhile  in  the  throng  of  the  great  city :  will  you  not  every- 
where find  sin,  and  sin,  and  again  sin  ?   Will  you  not  wail 


*  fSee  note  on  p.  91.] 


380  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


over  corrupt  humanity,  not  lament  at  the  monstrous  ego- 
ism? Will  you  see  a  rich  man  without  finding  him  pitiless 
and  ^'egoistic"?  Perhaps  you  already  call  yourself  an 
atheist,  but  you  remain  true  to  the  Christian  feeling  that  a 
camel  will  sooner  go  through  a  needle's  eye  than  a  rich 
man  not  be  an  ''un-man/'  How  many  do  you  see  anyhow 
that  you  would  not  throw  into  the  "egoistic  mass"? 
What,  therefore,  has  your  philanthropy  [love  of  man] 
found  ?  Nothing  but  unlovable  men !  And  where  do  they 
all  come  from  ?  From  you,  from  your  philanthropy !  You 
brought  the  sinner  with  you  in  your  head,  therefore  you 
found  him,  therefore  you  inserted  him  everywhere.  Do 
not  call  men  sinners,  and  they  are  not :  you  alone  are  the 
creator  of  sinners ;  you,  who  fancy  that  you  love  men,  are 
the  very  one  to  throw  them  into  the  mire  of  sin,  the  very 
one  to  divide  them  into  vicious  and  virtuous,  into  men  and 
un-men,  the  very  one  to  befoul  them  with  the  slaver  of 
possessedness ;  for  you  love  not  men,  but  man.  But  I  tell 
you,  you  have  never  seen  a  sinner,  you  have  only — dream- 
ed of  him. 

Self  enjoyment  is  embittered  to  me  by  my  thinking  I 
must  serve  another,  by  my  fancying  myself  under  obliga- 
tion to  him,  by  my  holding  myself  called  to  '^self-sacrifice,'' 
^^resignation,"  ^'enthusiasm."  All  right:  if  I  no  longer 
serve  any  idea,  any  "higher  essence,"  then  it  is  clear  of 
itself  that  I  no  longer  serve  any  man  either,  but — under  all 
circumstances — myself.  But  thus  I  am  not  merely  in  fact 
or  in  being,  but  also  for  my  consciousness,  the  unique.* 

There  pertains  to  you  more  than  the  divine,  the  human, 
etc. ;  yours  pertains  to  you. 

Look  upon  yourself  as  more  powerful  than  they  give 
you  out  for,  and  you  have  more  power ;  look  upon  yourself 
as  more,  and  you  have  more. 

You  are  then  not  merely  called  to  everything  divine, 
entitled  to  everything  human,  but  ozvner  of  what  is 
yours,  i.e.  of  all  that  you  possess  the  force  to  make  your 
own ;  i.  e.  you  appropriate^  and  capacitated  for  everything 
that  is  yours. 

*  [Einsipe]  t  [eigen]  t  [geeignet] 


THE  OWNER 


381 


People  have  always  supposed  that  they  must  give  me  a 
destiny  lying  outside  myself,  so  that  at  last  they  de- 
manded that  I  should  lay  claim  to  the  human  because  I 
am  =  man.  This  is  the  Christian  magic  circle.  Fichte's 
ego  too  is  the  same  essence  outside  me,  for  every  one  is 
ego;  and  if  only  this  ego  has  rights,  then  it  is  "the  ego,''  it 
is  not  1.  But  I  am  not  an  ego  along  with  other  egos,  but 
the  sole  ego:  I  am  unique.  Hence  my  wants  too  are 
unique,  and  my  deeds;  in  short,  everything  about  me  is 
unique.  And  it  is  only  as  this  unique  I  that  I  take  every- 
thing for  my  own,  as  I  set  myself  to  work,  and  develop 
myself,  only  as  this.  I  do  not  develop  man,  nor  as  man, 
but,  as  I,  I  develop — myself. 

This  is  the  meaning  of  the — unique  one. 


382  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


III 

THE  UNIQUE  ONE 

Pre-Christian  and  Giristian  times  pursue  opposite 
goals ;  the  former  wants  to  idealize  the  real,  the  latter  to 
realize  the  ideal ;  the  former  seeks  the  ''holy  spirit/'  the 
latter  the  ''glorified  body/'  Hence  the  former  closes  with 
insensitiveness  to  the  real,  with  "contempt  for  the  world'' ; 
the  latter  will  end  with  the  casting  off  of  the  ideal,  with 
"contempt  for  the  spirit." 

The  opposition  of  the  real  and  the  ideal  is  an  irrecon- 
cilable one,  and  the  one  can  never  become  the  other:  if 
the  ideal  became  the  real,  it  would  no  longer  be  the  ideal ; 
and,  if  the  real  became  the  ideal,  the  ideal  alone  would  be, 
but  not  at  all  the  real.  The  opposition  of  the  two  is  not 
to  be  vanquished  otherwise  than  if  some  one  annihilates 
both.  Only  in  this  "some  one,"  the  third  party,  does  the 
opposition  find  its  end ;  otherwise  idea  and  reality  will 
ever  fail  to  coincide.  The  idea  cannot  be  so  realized  as 
to  remain  idea,  but  is  realized  only  when  it  dies  as  idea ; 
and  it  is  the  same  with  the  real. 

But  now  we  have  before  us  in  the  ancients  adherents 
of  the  idea,  in  the  moderns  adherents  of  reality.  Neither 
can  get  clear  of  the  opposition,  and  both  pine  only,  the 
one  party  for  the  spirit,  and,  when  this  craving  of  the 
ancient  world  seemed  to  be  satisfied  and  this  spirit  to  have 
come,  the  others  immediately  for  the  secularization  of  this 
spirit  again,  which  must  forever  remain  a  "pious  wish." 

The  pious  wish  of  the  ancients  was  sanctity,  the  pious 
wish  of  the  moderns  is  corporeity.  But,  as  antiquity  had 
to  go  down  if  its  longing  was  to  be  satisfied  (for  it  con- 


THE  UNIQUE  ONE 


383 


sisted  only  in  the  longing),  so  too  corporeity  can  never 
be  attained  within  the  ring  of  Christianness.  As  the  trait 
of  sanctification  or  purification  goes  through  the  old  world 
(the  washings,  etc.),  so  that  of  incorporation  goes 
through  the  Christian  world :  God  plunges  down  into  this 
world,  becomes  flesh,  and  wants  to  redeem  it,  i,  e,  fill  it 
with  himself ;  but,  since  he  is  ''the  idea"  or  ''the  spirit," 
people  {e.  g.  Hegel)  in  the  end  introduce  the  idea  into 
everything,  into  the  world,  and  prove  "that  the  idea  is, 
that  reason  is,  in  everything."  "Man"  corresponds  in  the 
culture  of  to-day  to  what  the  heathen  Stoics  set  up  as 
"the  wise  man" ;  the  latter,  like  the  former,  a — fleshless 
being,  he  unreal  "wise  man,"  this  bodiless  "holy  one"  of 
the  Stoics,  became  a  real  person,  a  bodily  "Holy  One," 
in  God  made  flesh;  the  unreal  "man,"  the  bodiless  ego, 
will  become  real  in  the  corporeal  ego,  in  me. 

There  winds  its  way  through  Christianity  the  question 
about  the  "existence  of  God,"  which,  taken  up  ever  and 
ever  again,  gives  testimony  that  the  craving  for  existence, 
corporeity,  personality,  reality,  was  incessantly  busying 
the  heart  because  it  never  found  a  satisfying  solution.  At 
last  the  question  about  the  existence  of  God  fell,  but  only 
to  rise  up  again  in  the  proposition  that  the  "divine"  had 
existence  (Feuerbach).  But  this  too  has  no  existence,  and 
neither  will  the  last  refuge,  that  the  "purely  human"  is 
realizable,  afford  shelter  much  longer.  No  idea  has  exist- 
ence, for  none  is  capable  of  corporeity.  The  scholastic 
contention  of  realism  and  nominalism  has  the  same  con- 
tent ;  in  short,  this  spins  itself  out  through  all  Christian 
history,  and  cannot  end  in  it. 

The  world  of  Christians  is  working  at  realizing  ideas  in 
the  individual  relations  of  life,  the  institutions  and  laws 
of  the  Church  and  the  State ;  but  they  make  resistance, 
and  always  keep  back  something  unembodied  (unrealiz- 
able). Nevertheless  this  embodiment  is  restlessly  rushed 
after,  no  matter  in  what  degree  corporeity  constantly  fails 
to  result. 

For  realities  matter  little  to  the  realizer,  but  it  matters 
everything  that  they  be  realizations  of  the  idea.  Hence 


384  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


he  is  ever  examining  anew  whether  the  realized  does  in 
truth  have  the  idea,  its  kernel,  dwelling  in  it;  and  in 
testing  the  real  he  at  the  same  time  tests  the  idea,  whether 
it  is  realizable  as  he  thinks  it,  or  is  only  thought  by  him 
incorrectly,  and  for  that  reason  unfeasibly. 

The  Christian  is  no  longer  to  care  for  family,  State, 
etc.,  as  existences;  Christians  are  not  to  sacrifice  them- 
selves for  these  ''divine  things''  like  the  ancients,  but 
these  are  only  to  be  utilized  to  make  the  spirit  alive  in 
them.  The  real  family  has  become  indifferent,  and  there 
is  to  arise  out  of  it  an  ideal  one  which  would  then  be  the 
''truly  real,''  a  sacred  family,  blessed  by  God,  or,  accord- 
ing to  the  liberal  way  of  thinking,  a  "rational'  family. 
With  the  ancients  family.  State,  fatherland,  etc.,  is  divine 
as  a  thing  extant;  with  the  moderns  it  is  still  awaiting 
divinity,  as  extant  it  is  only  sinful,  earthly,  and  has  still 
to  be  "redeemed,"  i.  e.  to  become  truly  real.  This  has  the 
following  meaning:  The  family,  etc.,  is  not  the  extant 
and  real,  but  the  divine,  the  idea,  is  extant  and  real ; 
whether  this  family  will  make  itself  real  by  taking  up  the 
truly  real,  the  idea,  is  still  unsettled.  It  is  not  the  indi- 
vidual's task  to  serve  the  family  as  the  divine,  but,  re- 
versely, to  serve  the  divine  and  to  bring  to  it  the  still  un- 
divine  family,  i.  e.  to  subject  everything  in  the  idea's 
name,  to  set  up  the  idea's  banner  everywhere,  to  bring 
the  idea  to  real  efficacy. 

But,  since  the  concern  of  Christianity,  as  of  antiquity, 
is  for  the  diz'ine,  they  always  come  out  at  this  again  on 
their  opposite  ways.  At  the  end  of  heathenism  the  divine 
becomes  the  extraimindane,  at  the  end  of  Christianity  the 
intrarniindanc.  Antiquity  does  not  succeed  in  putting 
it  entirely  outside  the  world,  and,  when  Christianity 
accomplishes  this  task,  the  divine  instantly  longs  to  get 
back  into  the  world  and  wants  to  "redeem"  the  world. 
But  within  Christianity  it  does  not  and  cannot  come  to 
this,  that  the  divine  as  intramiindane  should  really  become 
the  mundane  itself:  there  is  enough  left  that  does  and 
must  maintain  itself  unpenetrated  as  the  "bad,"  irrational, 
accidental,  "egoistic,"  the  "mundane"  in  the  bad  sense. 


THE  UNIQUE  ONE 


385 


Christianity  begins  with  God's  becoming  man,  and  carries 
on  its  work  of  conversion  and  redemption  through  all 
time  in  order  to  prepare  for  God  a  reception  in  all  men 
and  in  everything  human,  and  to  penetrate  everything 
w^ith  the  spirit:  it  sticks  to  preparing  a  place  for  the 
^'spirit/' 

When  the  accent  was  at  last  laid  on  Man  or  mankind, 
it  was  again  the  idea  that  they  ''pronounced  eternal/' 
''Man  does  not  die!"  They  thought  they  had  now  found 
the  reality  of  the  idea:  Man  is  the  I  of  history,  of  the 
world's  history;  it  is  he,  this  ideal,  that  really  develops, 
i,  e,  realises,  himself.  He  is  the  really  real  and  corporeal 
one,  for  history  is  his  body,  in  which  individuals  are  only 
members.  Christ  is  the  I  of  the  world's  history,  even  of 
the  pre-Christian ;  in  modern  apprehension  it  is  man,  the 
figure  of  Christ  has  developed  into  the  ßgiire,  of  man: 
man  as  such,  man  absolutely,  is  the  ''central  point"  of 
history.  In  "man"  the  imaginary  beginning  returns 
again ;  for  "man"  is  as  imaginary  as  Christ  is.  "Man," 
as  the  I  of  the  world's  history,  closes  the  cycle  of  Chris- 
tian apprehensions. 

Christianity's  magic  circle  would  be  broken  if  the 
strained  relation  between  existence  and  calling,  i.  e,  be- 
tween me  as  I  am  and  me  as  I  should  be,  ceased ;  it  per- 
sists only  as  the  longing  of  the  idea  for  its  bodihness,  and 
vanishes  with  the  relaxing  separation  of  the  two :  only 
when  the  idea  remains — idea,  as  man  or  mankind  is  in- 
deed a  bodiless  idea,  is  Christianity  still  extant.  The 
corporeal  idea,  the  corporeal  or  "completed"  spirit,  floats 
before  the  Christian  as  "the  end  of  the  days"  or  as  the 
"goal  of  history" ;  it  is  not  present  time  to  him. 

The  individual  can  only  have  a  part  in  the  founding 
of  the  Kingdom  of  God,  or,  according  to  the  modern 
notion  of  the  same  thing,  in  the  development  and  history 
of  humanity ;  and  only  so  far  as  he  has  a  part  in  it  does  a 
Christian,  or  according  to  the  modern  expression  human, 
value  pertain  to  him;  for  the  rest  he  is  dust  and  a  worm- 
bag. 

That  the  individual  is  of  himself  a  world's  history,  and 


386  THE  EGO  AND  HIS  OWN 


possesses  his  property  in  the  rest  of  the  world's  history, 
goes  beyond  what  is  Christian.  To  the  Christian  the 
world's  history  is  the  higher  thing,  because  it  is  the  history 
of  Christ  or  "'man";  to  the  egoist  only  his  history  has 
value,  because  he  wants  to  develop  only  himself,  not  the 
mankind-idea,  not  God's  plan,  not  the  purposes  of  Provi- 
dence, not  liberty,  and  the  like.  He  does  not  look  upon 
himself  as  a  tool  of  the  idea  or  a  vessel  of  God,  he 
recognizes  no  calling,  he  does  not  fancy  that  he  exists  for 
the  further  development  of  mankind  and  that  he  must 
contribute  his  mite  to  it,  but  he  lives  himself  out,  careless 
of  how  well  or  ill  humanity  may  fare  thereby.  If  it  were 
not  open  to  confusion  with  the  idea  that  a  state  of  nature 
is  to  be  praised,  one  might  recall  Lenau's  "Three  Gyp- 
sies."— What,  am  I  in  the  world  to  realize  ideas?  To 
do  my  part  by  my  citizenship,  say,  toward  the  realization 
of  the  idea  ''State,"  or  by  marriage,  as  husband  and 
father,  to  bring  the  idea  of  the  family  into  an  existence  ? 
What  does  such  a  calling  concern  me!  I  live  after  a 
calling  as  little  as  the  flower  grows  and  gives  fragrance 
after  a  calling. 

The  ideal  "Man"  is  realized  when  the  Christian  appre- 
hension turns  about  and  becomes  the  proposition,  'T,  this 
unique  one,  am  man."  The  conceptional  question,  "what 
is  man?" — has  then  changed  into  the  personal  question, 
"who  is  man?"  With  "what"  the  concept  was  sought  for, 
in  order  to  realize  it ;  with  "who"  it  is  no  longer  any 
question  at  all,  but  the  answer  is  personally  on  hand  at 
once  in  the  asker :  the  question  answers  itself. 

They  say  of  God,  "Names  name  thee  not."  That  holds 
good  of  me:  no  concept  expresses  me,  nothing  that  is 
designated  as  my  essence  exhausts  me ;  they  are  only 
names.  Likewise  they  say  of  God  that  he  is  perfect  and 
has  no  calling  to  strive  after  perfection.  That  too  holds 
good  of  me  alone. 

I  am  owner  of  my  might,  and  I  am  so  when  I  know 
m3^self  as  unique.  In  the  unique  one  the  owner  himself 
returns  into  his  creative  nothing,  out  of  which  he  is  born. 
Every  higher  essence  above  me,  be  it  God,  be  it  man. 


THE  UNIQUE  ONE 


387 


weakens  the  feeling  of  my  uniqueness,  and  pales  only 
before  the  sun  of  this  consciousness.  If  I  concern  rny- 
self  for  myself,*  the  unique  one,  then  my  concern  rests 
on  its  transitory,  mortal  creator,  who  consumes  himself, 
and  I  may  say : 

All  things  are  nothing  to  me.f 


*  [Stell*  Ich  auf  Mich  meine  Sache,  Literally,  ''if  I  set  my 
affair  on  myself."] 

t  V'Ich  hah'  Mein'  SacK  auf  Nichts  gestellt.**  Literally,  "I 
have  set  my  affair  on  nothing."   See  note  on  p.  3.] 


THE  END 


On  the  following  pages  will  be  found 
the  complete  list  of  titles  in  ''The  Mod- 
em Library/'  including  those  published 
during  the  Fall  of  Nineteen  Hundred 
and  Nineteen.  New  titles  are  added 
in  the  Spring  and  Fall  of  every  year. 


THE  MODERN  LIBRARY 

OF  THE  WORLD'S  BEST  BOOKS 

Hand  Bound  in  Limp  Croft  Leather^  only  85c  per  copy 
Postage  6c  per  copy  extra 

TWO  years  ago,  the  Modern  Library  of  the  World's  Best 
Books  made  its  appearance  with  twelve  titles.  It  was 
immediately  recognized,  to  quote  the  New  York  Times, 
**as  filling  a  need  that  is  not  quite  covered  by  any  other  publi- 
cation in  the  field  just  now."  The  Dial  hastened  to  say:  "The 
moderns  put  their  best  foot  forward  in  the  Modern  Library. 
There  is  scarcely  a  title  that  fails  to  awaken  interest  and  the 
series  is  doubly  welcome  at  this  time.''  A  week  or  so 
after  the  publication  of  the  first  titles,  The  Independent  wrote: 
"The  Modern  Library  is  another  step  in  the  very  right  direction 
of  putting  good  books  into  inexpensive  form,"  and  the  clever 
Editor  of  the  Chicago  Daily  News,  in  a  long  review,  con- 
cluded :  'The  Modern  Library  astonishes  the  cynical  with  the 
excellence  of  its  choice  of  titles.  You  could  stand  before  a 
stack  of  these  books,  shut  your  eyes  and  pick  out  the  right 
one  every  time."  Despite  this  enthusiasm,  in  publishing  circles 
it  was  considered  impossible  to  continue  the  sale  of  these  at- 
tractive Hand  Bound  Limp  Croft  Leather  books,  printed  in  large 
clear  type  on  good  paper,  at  any  price  under  One  Dollar  a 
volume.  But  the  large  number  of  intelligent  book  buyers,  a 
much  larger  group  than  is  popularly  supposed,  has  not  only 
made  possible  the  continuation  of  this  fine  series  at  the  low 
price  of  Eighty-five  Cents  a  volume,  but  has  enabled  us  pro- 
gressively to  make  it  a  better  and  more  comprehensive  col- 
lection. There  are  now  eighty-four  titles  in  the  series  and 
from  eight  to  fifteen  new  ones  are  being  added  each  Spring 
and  Fall.  And  in  mechanical  excellence,  too,  the  books  have 
been  constantly  improved. 

Many  distinguished  American  and  foreign  authors  have  said 


Modem  Library  of  the  World's  Best  Books 


that  the  Modern  Library  is  one  of  the  most  stimulating  factors 
in  American  intellectual  life.  Practically  everybody  who  knows 
anything  about  good  books  owns  a  number  of  copies  and  gen- 
erally promises  himself  to  own  them  all.  .  .  .  One  of  the 
largest  book  stores  in  the  country  reports  that  more  copies  of 
the  Modern  Library  are  purchased  for  gifts  than  any  other 
books  now  being  issued. 

The  sweep  of  world  events  has,  of  course,  been  a  contributing 
influence  to  our  success.  Purposeful  reading  is  taking  the  place 
of  miscellaneous  dabbling  in  literature,  and  the  Modern  Library 
is  being  daily  recommended  by  notable  educators  as  a  repre- 
sentative library  of  modern  thought.  Many  of  our  titles  are 
being  placed  on  college  lists  for  supplementary  reading  and  theyj 
are  being  continuously  purchased  by  the  American  Library^ 
Association  for  Government  camps  and  schools. 

The  list  of  titles  on  the  following  six  pages  (together  with 
the  list  of  introductions  written  especially  for  the  Modernj 
Library)  indicates  that  our  use  of  the  term  "Modern'*  does  notl 
necessarily  mean  written  within  the  last  few  years.    Voltaire  is  I 
certainly  a  modern  of  moderns,  as  are  Samuel  Butler,  Frangois 
Villon,  Theophile  Gautier  and  Dostoyevsky. 

Many  of  the  books  in  the  Modern  Library  are  not  reprints,  but 
are  new  books  which  cannot  be  found  in  any  other  edition. 
None  of  them  can  be  had  in  any  such  convenient  and  attractive 
form.  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  any  other  editions  of  any 
of  these  books  at  double  the  price.  They  can  be  purchased 
wherever  books  are  sold  or  you  can  get  them  from  the  pub- 
lishers, jc 


Modern  Library  of  the  World's  Best  Books 


LIST  OF  TITLES 

For  convenience  in  ordering  please  use  number  at  right  of  title 

A  MODERN  BOOK  OF  CRITICISMS  (8i) 

Edited  with  an  Introduction  by 
LUDWIG  LEWISOHN 

ANDREYEV,  LEONID  (1871-  ) 

The  Seven  That  Were  Hanged  and  The  Red  Laugh  (45) 

Introduction  by  THOMAS  SELTZER 

ATHERTON,  GERTRUDE 
Rezanov  (71) 

Introduction  by  WILLIAM  MARION  REEDY 

BALZAC,  HONORE  DE  (1799-1850) 
Short  Stories  (40) 

BAUDELAIRE,  PIERRE  CHARLES  (1821-1867) 
His  Prose  and  Poetry  (70) 

BEARDSLEY,  THE  ART  OF  AUBREY  (1872-1898) 
64  Black  and  White  Reproductions  (42) 

Introduction  by  ARTHUR  SYMONS 

BEERBOHM,  MAX  (1872-  ) 
Zuleika  Dobson  (50) 

Introduction  by  FRANCIS  HACKETT 

BEST  GHOST  STORIES  (73) 

Introduction  by  ARTHUR  B.  REEVE 

BEST  HUMOROUS  AMERICAN  SHORT  STORIES  (87) 

Edited  with  an  Introduction  bv 
ALEXANDER  JESSUP 

BEST  RUSSIAN  SHORT  STORIES  (18) 

Edited  with  an  Introduction  by 
THOMAS  SELTZER 

BUTLER,  SAMUEL  (1835- 1902) 

The  Way  of  All  Flesh  (13) 
CARPENTER,  EDWARD  (1844-  ) 

Love's  Coming  of  Age  (51) 
CHEKHOV,  ANTON  (1860-1904) 

T^othschild's  Fiddle  and  Thirteen  Other  Stories  (31) 
CHESTERTON,  G.  K.  (1874-  ) 

The  Man  Who  Was  Thursday  (3/;) 


Modern  Library  of  the  World's  Best  Books 


D'ANNUNZIO,  GABRIELE  (1864-  ) 
The  Flame  of  Life  (65) 

DAUDET,  ALPHONSE  (1840-1897) 
Sapho  (85) 

In  same  volume  with  Prevost's  ''Mzinon  Lescaut** 

DOSTOYEVSKY,  FEDOR  (1821-1881) 
Poor  People  (10) 

Introduction  by  THOMAS  SELTZER 

DOWSON,  ERNEST  (1867-1900) 
Po^ms  and  Prose  (74) 

Introduction  by  ARTHUR  SYMONS 

DUNS  ANY,  LORD  (Edward  John  Plunkett)  (1878-  ) 
A  Dreamer's  Tales  (34) 

Introduction  by  PADRIAC  COLUM 
Book  of  Wonder  (43) 

EVOLUTION  IN  MODERN  THOUGHT  (37) 

A  Symposium,  including  Essays  by  Haeckel,  Thomson, 
Weismann,  etc. 

FLAUBERT,  GUSTAVE  (1821-1880) 
Madame  Bovary  (28) 

FRANCE,  ANATOLE  (1844-  ) 
The  Red  Lily  (7) 

The  Crime  of  Sylvestre  Bonnard  (22) 

Introduction  by  LAFCADIO  HEARN 

GAUTIER,  THEOPHILE  (1811-1872) 
Mile,  de  Maupin  (53) 

GEORGE,  W.  L.  (1882-  ) 
A  Bed  of  Roses  (75) 

Introduction  by  EDGAR  SALTUS 

GILBERT,  W.  S.  (1836-1911) 

The  Mikado,  The  Pirates  of  Penzance,  lolanthc,  Th« 
Gondoliers  (26) 

Introduction  by  CLARENCE  DAY,  Jr. 

GISSING,  GEORGE  (1857-1903) 

The  Private  Papers  of  Henry  Ryecroft  (46) 

Introduction  by  PAUL  ELMER  MORE 

De  GONCOURT,  E.  and  J.  (1822-1896)  (1830-1870) 
Renee  Mauperin  (76) 

Introduction  by  EMILE  ZOLA 


Modern  Library  of  the  World's  Best  Books 

It  '  '  = 

GORKY,  MAXIM  (1868-  ) 

Creatures  That  Once  Were  Men  and  Four  Other 
Stories  (48) 

Introduction  by  G,  K.  CHESTERTON 

HARDY,  THOMAS  (1840-  ) 
The  Mayor  of  Casterb ridge  (17) 

Introduction  by  JOYCE  KILMER 

HOWELLS,  WILLIAM  DEAN  (1837-  ) 
A  Hazard  of  New  Fortunes  (25) 

Introduction  by  ALEXANDER  HARVEY 

IBANEZ,  VICENTE  BLASCO  (1867-  ) 
The  Cabin  (69) 

Introduction  by  JOHN  GARRETT  UNDERBILL 

CBSEN,  HENRIK  (1828-1906) 

A  Doirs  House,  Ghosts,  An  Enemy  of  the  People  (6); 
Hedda  Gabler,  Pillars  of  Society,  The  Master  Builder  (36) 

Introduction  by  H.  L.  MENCKEN 
The  Wild  Duck,  Rosmersholm,  The  League  of  Youth  (54) 

JAMES,  HENRY  (1843-1916) 

Daisy  Miller  and  An  International  Episode  (63) 

Introduction  by  WILLIAM  DEAN  HOWELLS 

KIPLING,  RUDYARD  (1865-  ) 
Soldiers  Three  (3) 

LATZKO,  ANDREAS  (1876-  ) 
Men  in  War  (88) 

MACY,  JOHN  (1877-  ) 

The  Spirit  of  American  Literature  (56) 

MAETERLINCK,  MAURICE  (1862-  ) 

A  Miracle  of  St.  Antony,  Pelleas  and  Melisande,  The 
Death  of  Tintagiles,  AUadine  and  Palomides,  Interior, 
The  Intruder  (11) 

Dc  MAUPASSANT,  GUY  (1850-1893) 
Love  and  Other  Stories  (72) 

Edited  and  translated  with  an  Introduction  by 

MICHAEL  MONAHAN 
Mademoiselle  Fifi,  and  Twelve  Other  Stories  (8) 
Une  Vie  (57) 

Introduction  bv  HENRY  TAMES 


Modern  Library  of  the  World's  Best  Books 


MEREDITH,  GEORGE  (1828-1909) 
Diana  of  the  Crossways  (14) 

Introduction  by  ARTHUR  SYMONS 

MOORE,  GEORGE  (1853-  ) 

Confessions  of  a  Young  Man  (16) 

Introduction  by  FLOYD  DELL 

NIETZSCHE,  FRIEDRICH  (1844-1900) 
Thus  Spake  Zarathustra  (9) 

Introduction  by  FRAU  FOERSTER-NIETZSCHE 
Beyond  Good  and  Evil  (20) 

Introduction  by 

WILLARD  HUNTINGTON  WRIGHT 
Genealogy  of  Morals  (62) 

NORRIS,  FRANK  (1870-1902) 
McTeague  (60) 

Introduction  by  HENRY  S.  PANCOAST 

PATER,  WALTER  (1839-1894) 
The  Renaissance  (86) 

Introduction  by  ARTHUR  SYMONS 

PREVOST,  ANTOINE  FRANQOIS  (1697-1763) 
Manon  Lescaut  (85) 

In  same  volume  with  Daudet's  Sapho 

RODIN,  THE  ART  OF  (1840- 191 7) 

64  Black  and  White  Reproductions  (41) 

Introduction  by  LOUIS  WEINBERG 

ROOSEVELT,  THEODORE  (1858-1919) 

Selected  Addresses  and  Public  Papers  (78) 

Edited  with  an  Introduction  by 
ALBERT  BUSHNELL  HART 

SCHNITZLER,  ARTHUR  (1862-  ) 

Anatol,  Living  Hours,  The  Green  Cockatoo  (32) 

Introduction  by  ASHLEY  DUKES 
Bertha  Garlan  (39) 

SCHOPENHAUER,  ARTHUR  (1788-1860) 
Studies  in  Pessimism  (12) 

Introduction  by  T.  B.  SAUNDERS 

SHAW,  G.  B.  (1856-  ) 

An  Unsocial  Socialist  (ifi) 


Modern  Library  of  the  World's  Best  Books 


SINCLAIR,  MAY 
The  Belfry  (68) 

STEPHENS,  JAMES 
Mary,  Mary  (30) 

Introduction  by  PABRIAC  COLUM 

STEVENSON,  ROBERT  LOUIS  (1850-1894) 
Treasure  Island  (4) 

STIRNER,  MAX  (Johann  Caspar  Schmidt)  (i8o6-i8f^) 
The  Ego  and  His  Own  (49) 

STRINDBERG,  AUGUST  (1849-1912) 
Married  (2) 

Introduction  by  THOMAS  SELTZER 
Miss  Julie,  The  Creditor,  The  Stronger  Woman, 
Motherly  Love,  Paria,  Simoon  (52) 

SUDERMANN,  HERMANN  (1857-  ) 
Dame  Care  (33) 

SWINBURNE,  ALGERNON  CHARLES  (1837-1909) 
Poems  (23) 

Introduction  by  ERNEST  RHYS 

THOMPSON,  FRANCIS  (1859-1907) 
Complete  Poems  (38) 

TOLSTOY,  LEO  (1828-1910) 

Redemption  and  Two  Other  Plays  (77) 

Introduction  by  ARTHUR  HOPKINS 
The  Death  of  Ivan  Ilyitch  and  Four  Other  Stories  (64) 

TRÄUBEL,  HORACE  (1858-  ) 
Chants  Communal  (79) 

Special  Introduction  by  the  author  for  this  edition 

TURGENEV,  IVAN  (1818-1883) 
Fathers  and  Sons  (21) 

Introduction  by  THOMAS  SELTZER 
Smoke  (80) 

Introduction  by  JOHN  REED 

VILLON,  FRANCOIS  (1431-1461) 
Poems  (58) 

Introduction  bv  JOHN  PAYNE 


Modern  Library  of  the  World's  Best  Books 


VOLTAIRE,  (FRANCOIS  MARIE  AROUET)  (1694-1778) 
Candida  (47) 

Introduction  by  PHILIP  LITTELL 

WELLS,  H.  G.  (1866-  ) 
The  War  in  the  Air  (5) 

New  Preface  by  H.  G.  Wells  for  this  edition 
Ann  Veronica  (27) 

WILDE,  OSCAR  (1859-1900) 
Dorian  Gray  (i) 
Poems  (19) 

Fairy  Tales  and  Poems  in  Prose  (61) 
Salome,  The  Importance  of  Being  Earnest, 
Lady  Windermere's  Fan  (83) 

Introduction  by  EDGAR  SALTUS 
An  Ideal  Husband,  A  Woman  of  No  Importance  (84) 

WILSON,  WOODROW  (1856-  ) 

Selected  Addresses  and  Public  Papers  (55) 

Edited  with  an  Introduction  by 
ALBERT  BUSHNELL  HART 

WOMAN  QUESTION,  THE  (59) 

A  Symposium,  including  Essays  by  Ellen  Key, 
Havelock  Ellis,  G.  Lowes  Dickinson,  etc. 

Edited  by  T.  R.  SMITH 

YEATS,  W.  B.  (1865-  ) 

Irish  Fairy  and  Folk  Tales  (44) 


